Lockdown
by ktschott7
Summary: The elusive Saints of South Boston have finally been captured and taken into custody. Incarcerated in the Hoag Maximum Security Prison, the MacManus brothers face the challenge of staying alive despite the insurmountable odds against them. Takes place directly after All Saints Day. *Sequel Beyond Redemption is complete!*
1. Chapter 1

Lockdown

Chapter 1

"Get 'em, Murph!" Connor MacManus yelled from his spot on the sidelines where two older boys were holding him, arms behind his back. Murphy heard his brother's shout of support but didn't dare take his focus off of the threat in front of him.

A rather large group of kids had gathered, creating a circle around the two Irish boys, enthusiastically watching the confrontation unfold before them. In the center of the ring stood Murphy who, at the age of twelve, was slightly smaller than the other kids his age. However, what he lacked in size he more than made up for with his fiery personality and unbending stubborn nature. Standing opposite of Murphy was a lean, red haired boy who stood a solid head taller than his opponent and was approximately two years his senior.

"You've got this, Liam, teach this fuckin' eejit how to mind his own fuckin' business!" One of the boys restraining Connor hollered to the red head in the center. Liam O'Malley was notorious for bullying and picking fights. The lad had a rage in him that never tired of seeing those weaker than him suffer. No one was really sure where this aggression stemmed from, although rumor would suggest it was fueled by his less than pleasant home life.

Murphy didn't care what the chump's home life was like, he wasn't afraid of a fight and refused to back down to the older boy. That afternoon, when Murphy had been sitting out in front of the school waiting for Connor so the brothers could walk the mile and a half across the small Irish town to their home, he had played witness to one of Liam's random acts of violence. Murphy sat and watched as the bully and three of his sidekicks had singled out one of the younger, smaller boys, the way a lion singles out a sick gazelle. The teasing had started out as verbal abuse and when that failed to garner the desired reaction it swiftly escalated to pushing, shoving and more violent methods.

Murphy narrowed his eyes in disdain and quickly scanned the area for any sign of a teacher or authority figure to step in and take control of the situation. There was no one to be found. Taking a deep breath, Murphy gained his feet and made his way across the schoolyard with long determined strides. So intent on their victim, the four bullies hadn't even noticed Murphy's approach.

"Back the fuck off of 'em, Liam, he didn't do shit to you." At the sound of Murphy's voice the boys stopped and glanced over their shoulders before breaking out in laughter.

"What the fuck are you going to do about it, MacManus?" One of the boys taunted, an evil grin spreading across his face as if daring Murphy to try something. Liam took note of the squared shoulders and determined set of Murphy's jaw, as well as the defying glint in the younger boys eyes and turned around to face this new challenge more fully. He smiled mockingly at the other boy and, without breaking eye contact with his young challenger, Liam brought his leg into a backswing, preparing to deliver another blow to the helpless, prostrate form on the ground before him. Without hesitation, Murphy charged the bully, Liam's foot never connecting with its intended target.

Connor knew the second he stepped foot outside the school building that there was trouble. The sound of shouting and cheering drew his attention to the far corner of the open field in front of the school. A crowd was quickly gathering there and he squinted, trying to see what had drawn their attention. The group parted for a brief moment, just long enough for Connor to catch a glimpse of his brother taking a swing at Liam O'Malley.

"Christ, Murph," Connor muttered under his breath before taking off at a sprint across the field. The MacManus boys had a reputation of their own for being a bit on the scrappy side, but they never bullied or picked on those weaker than them. If a confrontation were to arise, for the sake of their Ma, the boys always attempted a peaceful resolution. However, if peace negotiations failed, neither brother had any qualms about taking it to the next level. It never mattered who or what started the fights, Connor and Murphy always had each other's backs.

By the time Connor arrived on the scene and pushed his way through the crowd, the fight had escalated and turned into a grappling match on the ground. Liam, who had gained the upper hand and was straddling Murphy's hips, brought his fist down hard into the younger boy's nose, causing a trickle of blood to flow down Murphy's face. Connor heard a curse in what he knew to be French escape his brother's lips just as Liam hauled off and punched him again. Connor had seen enough.

Dashing forward, he wrapped his arms around Liam's chest, forcefully yanking the boy off of his brother. "Get the hell off of 'em!"

Liam whirled around and shoved Connor away from him. "Let your brother fight his own fuckin' battles!" Before Connor could react, he found himself trapped between two boys who were grabbing his arms and yanking him back to the edge of the ring. Murphy used the distraction to get his feet back under him and prepare himself for another round. He spared a brief glance at his brother, making eye contact and giving him a quick nod. He was okay.

Liam, satisfied that Connor would no longer get in the way, turned back to see Murphy gaining his feet and wiping the blood from his nose onto his shirt sleeve. "It's your lucky day, MacManus. I'm feeling generous. If you can apologize, real nice-like, and admit your mistake in front of all these people, I'll let ya walk away now."

Murphy's eyes flashed fire at the suggestion and he let out a short, humorless laugh. "You hit like a fuckin' pussy," was his only response as he spit blood into the dirt at Liam's feet.

Liam's face turned red in anger but he didn't bother exchanging any more words, he just raised his fists to a ready position and began circling his prey. Murphy stood still, fists clenched at his sides, weight balanced evenly on the balls of his feet, his eyes never leaving the threat that was moving menacingly around him. He could hear Connor shouting his encouragement and the jeering of the other students as they made bets on who would come out victorious. Murphy forced it all to the background, his focus entirely on the older boy in front of him, waiting for him to make a move.

Liam took the first shot, a right hook which Murphy easily dodged. Three more punches followed in rapid succession. Murphy ducked the first two, but the third hit its mark in the side of his face, throwing him off balance. The young boy recovered quickly and came up swinging, landing one punch to the red head's nose and another to his abdomen. The crowd reached a new level of excitement as Liam's temper flared.

Murphy threw another punch, putting his whole weight into the hit and when it missed its mark, his momentum spun him around making him vulnerable. Liam grabbed the smaller boy from behind, pinning his arms to his side as he attempted to take him to the ground. Throwing his head back, Murphy caught Liam in the nose and a distinctive cracking sound told him it was now broken. The red haired boy let out a raging howl and released Murphy as his hands flew to his face, covering his new injury.

Taking advantage of the distracted and watery-eyed state of his opponent, Murphy grabbed the bigger boy by the back of the head and brought his knee up to meet his face. Liam dropped to the dirt and made no effort to rise. Murphy turned his back on the boy, attempting to walk away and end this, when the sound of Liam's voice stopped him. "Is that all you fuckin' got, MacManus?"

Murphy turned to see that Liam had made it back up onto one knee, blood still pouring from the boy's nose. Not willing to walk away from the challenge, Murphy began striding back over to where Liam was still kneeling in the dirt. He had almost reached the older boy and yet he still hadn't made a move to stand all the way up. Murphy approached cautiously, not really sure what he was up to. It wasn't until he was about three feet away that Liam made a move. Without warning, he sprang up from his place in the dirt, charging at the smaller boy, tackling him full force into the ground. Murphy was hit so hard that the wind was knocked out of him. He couldn't breath, he couldn't think, and he couldn't react when Liam's fist smashed into his face over and over. These were no ordinary punches. Something was different.

Connor could only watch in frustration as his brother was thrown to the ground. Murphy appeared to be making no effort to retaliate or get up and he started to grow concerned. "Come on, Murph, get up," he quietly willed his brother to fight back. Connor saw Liam's knuckles come away red with his brother's blood and winced. What he couldn't see was the palm-sized rock the other boy had clenched inside his fist.

Every second that passed Connor's struggle to get loose grew more and more frantic. It was obvious the fight was over yet Liam continued to bring his fists down relentlessly. "Let me go! It's fuckin' over, let me go!" Connor yelled at the boys holding his arms. After a few more moments of fighting and cursing the hands holding him back, Connor was finally allowed to go to his brother.

When he reached Murphy's side he grabbed Liam from behind and pulled him away from his brother's still form. Liam didn't fight when Connor pulled him away, he just grinned, taking one last glance at his handiwork before turning and walking away.

Dropping to his knees at Murphy's side, Connor began to check him over. "Murph? Murphy can ya hear me? Jesus, look at ya." There was so much blood on his brother's face he couldn't tell where it all was coming from.

Murphy could feel Liam being dragged off of him and he could hear his brother calling his name but he couldn't form the words for a response. He was fighting like hell just to hold onto consciousness but darkness was pulling at him. Murphy trusted his brother with his life and now that he was here he knew he would be safe. With that last thought he let go and drifted off into the sweet relief of unconsciousness.

/ / /

"Murph? Can ya hear me, brother? Come on, Murphy, open your fuckin' eyes." Murphy clung to the sound of Connor's voice, allowing it to gently ease him back to consciousness. Slowly, he cracked one eyelid open, immediately regretting that decision as his pounding head protested the bright fluorescent lights above him. "Ah, there ya are,Sleepin' Beauty. Have a nice nap did ya?" When he heard his brother's voice again Murphy opened his other eye, attempting to get a better look at his surroundings. The plain white walls, barred windows and prison guard keeping watch not ten feet away, grounded him to the reality of where they were and it sure as hell wasn't the green fields of fuckin' Ireland.

"What the fuck happened?" He mumbled through his hands, which he was using in an attempt to block out the offensive light.

"I'll tell ya, Murph, ya have a real way with the criminals. Those bastards, they just can't keep their hands off ya." Connor chuckled at the glare his brother laid on him before answering the real question. "Nothin' too serious though. Someone just needed to be taught a lesson on who he can and can't put his hands on is all."

Murphy glanced at Connor out of the corner of his eye, taking note of the fresh bruises and stitches decorating his brother's face. "Looks like it was pretty fuckin' serious to me."

"Well trust me, brother, when I say you should really see the other guy. In fact ya can, he is right over there." Connor indicated the direction with a nod of his head.

Murphy grimaced as he pushed himself up on his elbows and glanced across the prison infirmary. Occupying a bed in the far corner of the room was a very large brute of a man who was so bruised and battered he looked as if he had been used as a piñata. Murphy recognized the fellow as Geno Pisani, an inmate who, back in the day, served as muscle for the Italian mafia. Raising his eyebrow in question he turned back to his brother. "He looks like he's seen better days. That your handiwork?"

"Aye, with no help from you I might add," Connor teased.

Murphy searched his memory, trying hard to recall the events that led them to their current situation. Slowly, the memories resurfaced. He remembered being out in the yard. He had been walking the perimeter of the outdoor enclosure with his brother and Romeo. Always keeping their backs to the fence and a watchful eye on the other inmates. The reputation of the Saints preceded them and everyone was familiar with the brothers and their divinely influenced mission. Geno Pisani was only one of the hundreds of convicts imprisoned at the Hoag to take issue with the Saints and their supreme form of justice. Needless to say, they were never safe here.

Murphy remembered hearing the sound of the three-second, one-tone bell that indicated the end of yard time and following his brother and Romeo to where the guards were lining the inmates up to head back to the cellblock. The trio had made it about half way across the yard when Murphy felt someone grab him from behind. The last thing he could recall was struggling to face his attacker before a blinding flash of pain exploded across the back of his skull. He was immediately swallowed by darkness.

Cringing at the memory, Murphy pushed himself all the way up into a sitting position despite the dizziness and nausea that was brought on by the movement. "Our friend Geno over there, was he the only one?" He asked his brother who had moved from his adjacent bed and was now sitting at the foot of Murphy's.

"Na, he had two of his pals in on it, but with Romeo's help we made quick fuckin' work of 'em." Connor reached a hand up and adjusted the bandage around his brother's head.

"Rome? Is he ok?" Murphy realized that their friend wasn't with them in the infirmary and worry gripped his heart.

"Aye, he's fine. He took a few good knocks, but nothin' that needed stitchin' up. They took him straight to solitary, which is where I'll be headed as soon as the doc gives his okay."

"What? What the fuck are they puttin' ya in there for!? It was self-defense! Do they just fuckin' expect us to roll over and let them beat the fuckin' shit out of us!?" Murphy's temper flared quickly, his anger getting the best of him as it so often did. His voice rose until he was almost shouting, which garnered the attention of the prison guard near by. The man took a step closer and pointed a finger in warning.

Connor laid a hand on this brother's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "It may have been self-defense at first, Murph, but," he chuckled lightly and a guilty grin spread across his face, "by the time it was all said and done we may have taken it a bit beyond that." Connor grew serious again and looked up to meet his brother's eyes. "Like I said, they needed to be taught a lesson. I wasn't going to fuckin' let this slide." He looked meaningfully at the bandage around Murphy's head.

Murphy nodded, he understood. He certainly didn't blame Connor for this and, had the roles been reversed, he would have done the same thing. Lowering his voice, he ventured a question he was dreading the answer to. "How long?"

Connor sighed and dropped his hand from his brother's shoulder. "Not too sure exactly. A week, maybe more."

"Fuck." Murphy rubbed a hand across his face before running it through his dark hair.

Connor understood why the news disturbed his brother, for the same worries had been eating away at him. Three weeks had passed since the events leading to the incarceration of the Saints took place. That is three weeks that they have been surviving in this shark tank where everyone was an enemy waiting for an opportunity to take a shot at them. Up to this point, the trio had managed to fend off trouble by sticking together and watching each other's backs'. The other inmates seemed hesitant to make a move so long as the three of them remained vigilant and stayed close together. Now that Romeo and Connor were both sentenced to a week or more of solitary confinement, Murphy was on his own. He would be a lone swimmer in a sea of bloodthirsty sharks.

"Ya need to listen to me now, Murph," Connor waited until he had his brother's full attention before continuing, "Ya got to play this fuckin' smart. Spend as much time in the cell as ya can and keep your back protected as often as possible. I want ya to…" Connor paused, knowing the reaction his next words would have, "I want ya to stay close to the guards. That way if trouble starts they can break it up quick."

Murphy gave a short, humorless laugh before glaring at his brother. "Ya mean cower behind the guards like a fuckin' pussy?"

Connor's frustration mounted and he resisted the urge to smack his brother in the head. "I mean act like a fuckin' man that wants to stay the fuck alive!"

Murphy understood the logic of the plan. However, his pride was having a hard time coming to terms with the idea of clinging to the guards like frightened child. Before he could respond, their conversation was interrupted by the presence of a tall, light-haired, middle-aged man, sporting a white lab coat over suit pants and button down shirt. The brothers recognized the fellow as Dr. Schneider, the chief physician at the prison.

Dr. Schneider flashed them a friendly smile. "How we doing, boys?" he asked in a kind voice. Connor and Murphy had noticed that, while every inmate wanted their heads on a plate, they actually had quite a few sympathizers among the prison staff. Dr. Schneider in particular, had had the opportunity to establish an easygoing relationship with the brothers during the time they spent in his infirmary recovering from the gunshot wounds they sustained the day they were taken into custody.

Connor nodded to the doctor and returned the smile. "Doin' alright, Doc. Afraid Murph here has a bit of a headache though."

Pulling a small flashlight out of his front coat pocket, Dr. Schneider moved forward to examine Murphy. "It would be a miracle if he didn't. That was quite a hit you took, Murphy," he said as he used his light to evaluate Murphy's pupil reaction. "Any nausea? Dizziness?" he questioned quietly, lowering his voice to accommodate their close proximity.

"Aye, a bit of both," Murphy responded matching the doctor's hushed tone.

Giving a little nod, Dr. Schneider returned his flashlight to his coat pocket and moved around his patient to check the wound on the back of his head. Murphy winced as the doctor pulled back the bandage and lightly prodded the area with his fingers. Satisfied with what he saw, he replaced the bandage and stepped back out in front of his patient.

"Well, Murphy, the wound on your head is looking good. I don't think you will need stitches and keeping it wrapped will help with the swelling. However, you may have a mild concussion so I want to keep you here overnight for observation, just to be on the safe side. Okay?"

Murphy nodded and, although he didn't show it, he was slightly relieved at getting to delay his free swim with the sharks. Seeing that Murphy understood, Dr. Schneider continued. "I'm afraid the only thing I am allowed to offer to help manage your pain is Tylenol or Advil. Take your pick."

Murphy shook his head. "That's ok, Doc, I can handle it."

Connor laughed at his brother's response. "Aye, Macho Murph here, he can handle anythin'." Reaching out, he ruffled Murphy's hair teasingly only to have his hand swatted away.

Dr. Schneider chuckled at their antics before turning his focus to Connor. "As for you, Mr. MacManus, your stitches are holding nicely. I want to put some antibiotic cream on and cover them with a few bandages. Infections come easily in this place." Pulling the necessary items from a drawer nearby, he directed Connor to move back over to his own bed. Pulling up a chair, Dr. Schneider sat across from his patient and, using a cotton swab, began spreading a thick ointment across his stitches. "These sutures will dissolve on their own in a about a week, so no need to come back and have them taken out. Once I get these bandages in place I am going to have to release you into the custody of the guards." His eyes met Connor's for a brief moment before refocusing on his task. Connor didn't respond, he just nodded slightly and glanced over at his brother who was watching him closely.

After smoothing the last bandage down across Connor's cheekbone, the doctor rolled his chair back over to the cabinet, replacing the supplies and discarding the trash into a can nearby. "That'll do it!" He said with a smile. After cleaning up his mess, Dr. Schneider turned to Connor with a serious expression on his face. "I don't want to see you in here again. Do you understand? No more trouble." He cracked a small grin to let the brothers know he was halfway joking. "I will be back to check on you in a few hours, Murphy. Try to stay awake if you can. I don't think your concussion is that serious, but better safe than sorry."

"Thanks, Doc." Connor and Murphy replied in unison. Dr. Schneider gave a nod before turning to walk away. The brothers watched as the man exchanged a few words with the nearest guard before continuing about his business. After speaking with the doctor, the guard turned and headed in their direction.

Connor saw that their time was almost up and quickly moved back to his brother's side. Placing both hands on Murphy's shoulders he gave him a little shake. "Ya do what I fuckin' said, ya hear me, Murphy? Lay low and watch your fuckin' mouth, you know it always gets ya into trouble."

"On your feet, inmate." Connor heard the guard behind him but made no move to comply.

"Ya have to swallow your pride now, Murph. If someone tries to start somethin' ignore it, let it go. We can take care of it together when I get out." Murphy didn't say anything; he just stared at his brother. "Ya fuckin' listenin' to me?" Connor asked when Murphy failed to acknowledge him.

"Don't make me ask you again, MacManus. I said on your feet!" The guard was growing impatient.

Murphy saw the intensity in his brother's eyes. He knew that being stuck in solitary, while his brother was left to defend himself against such superior numbers, was going to drive Connor crazy. "I hear ya, Connor. I'll do my best, brother." Murphy spoke the words quietly, hoping they would ease his brother's mind.

Connor nodded and bent forward, resting his forehead against Murphy's bandaged one in a quick show of affection. After giving his brother a swift pat on the side of the face Connor stood to face the guard.

"Turn around. Arms behind your back." Connor did as he was told and felt a pair of cold, steel handcuffs tighten down on his wrists. He never broke eye contact with Murphy the entire time his back was to the guard. He was praying that the next time he saw his brother he would still be in one piece.

Once the handcuffs were in place the guard used them to pull his prisoner out in front of him and push him towards the exit. Connor hesitated at the door and turned, making eye contact with Murphy one last time, before allowing the guard to guide him down the hall.

After Connor disappeared through the door Murphy laid back down and stared up at the ceiling. This was wrong. It was wrong being without his brother. This whole situation was leaving him with a horrible, gut wrenching feeling. Closing his eyes, Murphy began to pray.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Bright rays of morning sunshine streamed down through the barred windows of the infirmary, causing Murphy to flinch and open his eyes. His first instinct was to look around and find Connor and it took his brain a few moments to catch up to where he was and why he was there. Murphy allowed himself to lay there for a few minutes, letting the events of yesterday wash over him, before pushing himself into a sitting position and surveying his surroundings. The infirmary was peacefully quiet and the only member of the prison staff he could see was a guard posted up at the door. Geno was still passed out in a bed in the far corner and Murphy smiled to himself at the sight of his brother's handiwork. Connor had really done the bastard in.

"Good morning, Murphy."

Murphy jumped at the sound of a voice on his left side. His arm came up automatically into a defensive position and his right hand curled into a fist at his side. He was surprised when he was met with Dr. Schneider's friendly face.

"Whoa, easy there. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Dr. Schneider raised his hands in a placative manner and took a seat next to Murphy's bed.

Letting out a slow breath, Murphy tried to calm himself as the adrenaline coursed through his system. "Sorry, Doc, I'm a bit on edge apparently," He apologized and averted his gaze down to his hands, slightly embarrassed by his reaction.

Dr. Schneider nodded in understanding. He was well aware of Murphy's reasons for being so tightly wound. "No worries. It's fine, Murphy." He gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before getting down to business. "How is your head feeling his morning?"

Murphy reached a hand to the back of his head, gingerly testing the wound with his fingers. "I feel like I've been hittin' the bottle all night playing one of Connor's stupid drinking games, but the nausea and dizziness are a bit better."

"Good, that's a good sign." After a quick examination of Murphy's pupils he nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. I'm feeling confident about releasing you from my care this morning." The doctor hesitated as if he wanted to say more but wasn't sure if he should cross that line.

Murphy picked up on the other man's hesitance and narrowed his eyes. "Somethin' else on your mind, Doc?"

Dr. Schneider had been doing this job for ten years and it was his general rule to not get too emotionally invested in his patients. However, in this case he felt it was his duty as a doctor to say something. After a few more moments of indecision he made up his mind and continued speaking. "I heard you and your brother talking yesterday and I believe he is right. You wont be safe out there by yourself. How about you let me talk to the warden. I can recommend that he put you in protective custody until your brother and friend are released back into gen. pop."

Murphy started shaking his head before the doctor had finished speaking. "I appreciate your concern, Doc, I really do, but I'm not a coward and I won't run and hide like such."

Dr. Schneider didn't give in. "It's not cowardly to want to live to see the end of the week. Your pride will only serve you so far in this situation."

"Now I know you've been talkin' to Connor." Murphy laughed.

The Doctor sighed and leaned back in his chair. "It's your choice, Murphy. I just hate to see you endanger yourself so needlessly. You could become seriously injured or worse. Much worse."

"Well it's a good thing I have an excellent doctor standin' by, now isn't it?" Murphy grinned in an attempt to lighten the situation.

Leaning forward, Dr. Schneider rested his elbows on his knees and fixed Murphy with a serious gaze. "I have been working here a long time, Murphy, and I have seen firsthand the brutality some of these men are capable of. If they get a clear shot at you, they won't hesitate to take it. These people here, they don't play games."

The smile slipped from Murphy's face and he grew deadly serious. "Neither do I."

The doctor was taken aback by the intensity in the other man's eyes. It was easy to forget that, despite their friendly smiles and easygoing attitudes, these boys were ruthless murderers. Not wanting to push the issue further Dr. Schneider broke eye contact and relented to Murphy's fierce gaze. "Like I said, it's your choice." Standing from his chair he prepared to leave, "I will go inform the guards that you are ready for them."

"Hey, Doc," Murphy called as the doctor began walking away. The man turned and looked back at him once more. "Thank ya for carin' enough to try."

Dr. Schneider gave a half smile and nodded. "Just doing my job," he said before walking away.

Once he was gone Murphy sighed to himself and lay back down against the pillows. Closing his eyes, he used this opportunity to say a little prayer and mentally prepare himself for the days to come. He was startled out of his thoughts by a guard kicking the foot of his bed.

"Let's go, MacManus."

Murphy cracked one eye open and grinned up at the guard. "Well good mornin' to you too."

The guard wasn't amused. "On your feet, let's go," he repeated the order again, louder this time.

Murphy rolled his eyes and slowly gained his feet. "Well aren't you a fuckin' bright and happy ray of sunshine, officer…" he squinted in an attempt to read the man's name badge, "Jones is it?"

The guard's eyes turned angry and he reached up and smacked Murphy hard in the side of the head. "You better watch your fucking mouth, inmate," he said as he grabbed the prisoner's arms and yanked him around to slap the cuffs on his wrists.

Murphy cringed and sucked in his breath at the abuse to his recently obtained head injury. "Christ, I was just fuckin' jokin' around!"

"Does it look like I think you are fucking funny?" he growled. Once the cuffs were in place the guard pushed him, none too gently, towards the exit.

Murphy glanced back over his right shoulder at the man's angry face. He smiled to himself and wisely chose not to answer the rhetorical question. This guy was obviously not a fan. Murphy decided it wasn't worth trying to make conversation with the guard guiding him through the prison and resigned to walking the halls in silence.

The Hoag Maximum Security Prison was located twenty-eight miles south west of Boston, Massachusetts. The compound was situated on a thirty-two acre lot with a twenty-foot concrete wall surrounding the entire perimeter. The wall was fixed with eight guard towers and five strands of electric wire across the top. The prison itself consisted of four buildings. Cellblocks A and B were in one building, blocks C and D in another. Both cellblock buildings were connected to the main structure, which held the infirmary, cafeteria and kitchen, guards' quarters, armory, a small library and few classrooms for educational programs. The fourth building, which was located off the far north corner of the main structure, was for housing inmates in solitary confinement and those under psychiatric evaluation.

Officer Jones led Murphy through the halls of the main building until they reached the barred entrance to cellblock D. All cellblock entrances and cell doors were controlled electronically through the control room in each block. Pulling his prisoner to a stop, Jones signaled into the D block control room to the guard on duty and within seconds the cellblock door slid open with a bang. Each cellblock contained twenty cells split into two levels. The cell doors were kept open for two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening, allowing the inmates' access to roam their block or make use of the tables on the ground level.

The other inmates' had already been served their morning meal and were taking advantage of their two hours of morning free time when Murphy was pushed into their midst. A hush fell over the group of convicts and he could feel the eyes on him as officer Jones removed his handcuffs and turned him loose. Murphy looked around at the sea of unfriendly faces before squaring his shoulders and, very calmly, making his way to his ground level cell at the far end of the block. As he walked, a few of the inmates' stood to their feet and followed threateningly in his wake. He glanced at them over his shoulder but showed no fear, he just continued his slow, steady pace.

When he arrived at his cell, Murphy quickly ducked inside and let out a long, shaky breath. He looked around the tiny eight by ten enclosure before taking a seat on the bottom bunk and placing his back against the wall. He sat like that for a long time, his eyes never leaving the entrance, prepared for anything. A few prisoners came and hovered outside the door but no one made a move to enter. Some of them stood whispering amongst themselves, others just poked their heads in long enough to offer up a malicious grin before laughing and walking away. Murphy didn't respond to their intimidation tactics. He remained where he was on the bottom bunk with one foot on the floor, the other propped up on the bed with his arm draped casually across his knee, and stared unflinchingly out at the circling sharks.

/ / /

Connor paced the length of his small isolation cell over and over again. He tried counting his steps, attempting to give his brain something to focus on, but lost count somewhere around six hundred and eighty seven. Kicking the concrete wall in frustration, he lay down on the small single bed and relaxed back into the thin pillow.

Staring up at the ceiling, Connor finally succumbed to all the negative thoughts that had been trying to have their way with him since he was tossed into this hole. He thought about Romeo and felt a stab of guilt. He understood that the man had made his own decision about getting involved with the Saints, hell he had begged to be let in, but he still felt responsible for the safety of his loyal friend. Connor was afraid of failing him… the same way he had failed Rocco. He knew if Rocco were alive today the man would have no regrets about the way things went down, but that didn't ease the pain of Connor's guilt.

His thoughts continued to spiral down a self-condemning path as he thought about Greenly and his Da, two more people who had lost their lives in the name of their mission. Connor knew he shouldn't carry the weight of these deaths on his heart. They had all known the risks and they had all died for a cause they believed in. Greenly had used his dying breath to tell him and Murphy that helping them had been the proudest day of his life.

Despite the loss of good lives, Connor would never regret the choices that brought them here. This was the way it had to be. It was the Lord's plan. If they hadn't done the things they did, then who knows how many more innocent lives would have been lost. The people he and Murphy had killed didn't deserve to walk this beautiful Earth. The world was a safer place without them.

Connor sat up with a sigh and scrubbed his face with his hands as restlessness overtook him once more. Gaining his feet he continued pacing. Thoughts of his brother entered his mind. He missed him. Connor and Murphy were very rarely apart and his brother's absence left a gaping hole in his soul that could only be filled when they were together, the way they had been their entire lives. Sure, he and Murphy fought often enough. Occasionally their arguments would take a turn for the worse and develop into full, knock- down, drag -out brawls, but more often than not their squabbles were over something stupid that might result in a quick wrestling match on the floor before ending with good natured taunting and a toast over a bottle of whisky. Still, it never mattered how many times the brothers beat the shit out of each other, they never once considered going their separate ways. They weren't just brothers, they were twins. He and Murphy came into this world together and, if Connor had any say in the matter, they would leave it the same way. Most people didn't make the twin connection as they were fraternal twins and really looked nothing alike. Connor had lighter hair, bordering on blonde, and Murphy's was more of a dark brown. However, the brothers had one physical feature that they both shared and that was their striking blue eyes.

Connor felt sick to his stomach at the thought of Murphy out there alone. His brother had always been the more impulsive and quick-tempered of the two, while Connor was more of a levelheaded plan maker. Murphy always managed to find trouble more often than his brother but, no matter what, Connor was always there to back him up. Until now. Now Murphy was by himself and that thought scared the shit out of him. It wasn't that he doubted his brother's abilities. He knew that Murphy was perfectly capable of taking care of himself and, if a conflict arose, there was no one else Connor would rather have at his side. However, this situation wasn't just some random bar fight. A majority of these people were in here for violent crimes and Murphy was severely outnumbered. Connor couldn't be there for his brother like he had been their entire lives and it was eating away at him. All he could do now was sit inside this fucking cell while the most important person in his life struggled to survive.

Connor's pacing grew more violent as his thoughts grew darker. He hadn't felt this helpless since the Checkov incident. He didn't like to think about that, but the more agitated he became the less he could control the direction his thoughts took him. Connor remembered the way the handcuffs bit into his wrists as he fought with everything he had to get loose. The helplessness he felt as he watched those fucking Russians drag his brother out to the ally to execute him, was all too similar to what he was feeling now. At the time, he had managed to channel all of his fear and rage into finding the strength to escape, but now Connor was faced with those same desperate emotions and nowhere to channel them. Desperate for an outlet, he began beating uselessly on the steel door of his solitary cell. He would pace to the back wall then back to the door and each time he came to the door he would punch it as hard as he could. Connor continued this until he ran out of energy and his knuckles bled. Exhausted, he collapsed onto his bed, cradling his injured hand, and eventually fell into a troubled sleep.

/ / /

"MacManus, you have a visitor."

Murphy raised his head up off his pillow and stared in surprise at the guard on the other side of the bars. "A visitor?" he asked in disbelief. The guard nodded once in affirmation.

Murphy's cell door had just been closed for the afternoon and he was relieved at finally being able to relax and let his guard down for a bit. However, if he truly had a visitor he knew this was a conversation he needed to have. There was only one person on his and Connor's visitor list and it was Father Sibeal MacManus, their uncle. Father Sibeal was a very influential member of the Catholic Church, not just back in Ireland, but here in Boston as well where he had many friends and connections. Their uncle had been the one to inform them of the murder of Father McKinney, which was the event that led the brothers out of retirement and back to the states. He was a good man and, for the most part, supportive of his brother and nephews' mission.

Murphy stood to his feet and put his back to his cell door with his hands through the bars so the guard could cuff him. Once the restraints were in place Murphy stepped forward and waited for the guard to radio into the control room to open his cell. The door slid open and the guard motioned for Murphy to step out in front of him and directed him toward the cellblock exit. The other prisoners came and stood at their cell doors, watching as Murphy was led past. He kept his eyes forward and paid no attention to the glares and mumbled threats that were thrown his way.

"You seem to have made a few friends during your stay," the guard commented once they were clear of the cellblock.

Murphy laughed at the man's sarcasm. "Aye, all puppy dogs and rainbows that group." He could hear the guard chuckle behind him and smiled to himself. It was nice to interact with someone who wasn't out for his blood.

They walked the rest of the way in silence and upon reaching the visitation room the guard removed the cuffs and directed him over to where his visitor was waiting. Murphy sat down across from his uncle and stared at him through the thick plate of glass that separated them. The older man looked relieved to see his nephew alive and well. Father Sibeal picked up the phone and Murphy followed suit.

"How are ya holdin' up, Murphy? Is everythin' all right? They told me Connor was in isolation and couldn't be seen. What happened?"

Murphy held up his hands, halting the barrage of questions before addressing his uncle. "We're all right, everythin' is fine. Things are a bit…hostile to say the least, but we're hangin' in there. There was an altercation with another inmate yesterday and it landed Connor in solitary confinement. He should be out in a week or so."

"And you? Are ya doin' all right on your own?" he asked, slightly alarmed by the situation.

"Aye, for now."

Father Sibeal nodded. "Good. You boys just need to hang in there a bit longer. I wanted ya to know that ya have people workin' on this for you on the outside."

Murphy looked puzzled. "What people?"

"You boys have gathered quite a followin'. The public is pretty much divided down the middle, but you have half the city of Boston demandin' your release. There has been a steady stream of protestors outside the prison since the day you were taken into custody. Protestors alone wont get much done but ya also have the backin' of the Catholic Church. It took some convincin' but, with the exception of a few members, they are prepared to support you. We have contacted a very good lawyer and he believes he can make a case for your release. He will be wantin' to meet with you boys soon to discuss a strategy."

Murphy took a few moments to absorb everything his uncle had just said. He wasn't sure how he felt about the protestors and the show of public support. He supposed it was good to have people on their side but the last thing he wanted was to be idolized and have their lives paraded around and exposed by the media. Anonymity was important and Murphy knew Connor would agree.

Father Sibeal gave his nephew a few minutes to process the information before he continued speaking. "There is more," he paused until Murphy looked up at him, "I have been workin' closely with an old friend of yours. He believes it is a good idea to have a secondary plan in place in case the lawyer's efforts fall through."

"Friend? What friend?" Murphy asked, thoroughly confused.

"I'm afraid I can't really say anymore on that subject. Not here. Ya just have to trust that everythin' that can be done for you boys is bein' done."

Murphy relented his curiosity and nodded. "Thank ya, Father."

"I promised your Da, if anythin' happened to him, I would keep an eye on you boys. I intend to do just that."

Murphy felt a pang of sadness at the mention of his Da, but he managed to give his uncle a grateful smile.

"As soon as Connor gets out I will set up a time for you boys to meet with the lawyer and we will go from there." When Murphy nodded he continued. "I should probably be going, I have to meet with…" Father Sibeal stopped himself and looked around before continuing, "…well, I have a meeting. Would ya like to take a moment to pray with me before I go?"

"Aye," Murphy said, and he closed his eyes and bowed his head, allowing the Father to lead them in a prayer. When they were done he crossed himself and looked back up at his uncle. "Thanks again, Father, we really appreciate all you are doin'."

"Take care of yourself, Murphy, I will be in touch." With that, Father Sibeal hung up the phone and stood to leave.

Murphy watched the older man walk out the door as the guard came to replace his handcuffs and escort him back to his cell. He was silent on the way back as he considered everything Father Sibeal had said. Murphy felt like he was left with more questions than answers. When his uncle had said "secondary plan" was he referring to breaking out? Murphy wasn't sure how he felt about that. He and Connor both believed that they were in this place for a reason, but could they really do more good inside this prison than out on the streets? At least in here the convicts were locked away from innocent civilians, as opposed to the criminals who were still free to roam the city. Murphy was conflicted and he desperately wished he had Connor here to consult with.

Once Murphy was locked away back in his cell he plopped down on his bottom bunk and closed his eyes. It was still only early afternoon and the mid-day meal wouldn't be served for another hour. After lunch, was a full hour of yard time followed by more cell time, dinnertime, then two more hours of free time before lights out. Murphy knew he would need his strength to stay on his toes and make it through the rest of the day, so he allowed himself to drift off into a light sleep.

When he awoke it was to the sound of every cell door in the block opening simultaneously. Lunchtime. Since the guards couldn't cuff them and walk them all separately to the cafeteria, the inmates were lined up together and escorted as a group with four or five guards as entourage. Unwilling to turn his back on them, Murphy waited at the door of his cell until the other prisoners were lined up then he took a spot at the end of the line. The walk there was uneventful and when they reached the cafeteria the guards backed away and stood along the perimeter of the room to keep watch while the inmates ate their meal.

Murphy waited in line and accepted his tray of food with a nod in thanks before turning and scanning the area for a safe place to sit. Spotting an empty table in the far corner he made his move. About halfway to his destination Murphy glanced to his left and caught sight of a large, bald headed man with an unidentifiable neck tattoo, eyeing him like a piece of meat. When the other man saw he had Murphy's attention he flashed him a dangerous smile and patted the empty seat next to him in invitation. Murphy narrowed his eyes and shook his head at the man before passing the table up. The inmate who had offered up the seat glared at Murphy's retreating back and turned to whisper something to the other members of his group.

When Murphy reached the empty table he sat down and began to lightly pick at his meal. His head still ached fiercely and the food in front of him churned his stomach, but he forced himself to take a few bites anyway. Murphy stiffened when he felt someone sit down across from him and looked up to find himself face to face with Tattoo Neck.

Setting down his fork, Murphy leaned back and stared coolly at the man across the table. "Is there somethin' I can fuckin' help ya with?"

"I saved you a seat," Tattoo Neck nodded in the direction of his table.

"Not interested," Murphy replied calmly.

Narrowing his eyes, the other inmate set his elbows on the table and leaned forward threateningly. "I couldn't help but notice you are all alone now. Alone is a dangerous thing to be in this place. How about you come sit with us and we will see to it that no one bothers you."

Murphy laughed once in disbelief. "And I suppose you would be willin' to do this out of the kindness of your heart, eh?" he asked sarcastically.

Tattoo Neck grinned and removed his arms from the table, leaning back into a more relaxed position. "Ah, well you know you can't get something for nothing, especially in this place. However, I'm not an unreasonable guy. We will offer you our protection and all I ask in return is that you let me call you mine. Being able to have one of Boston's Saints as my bitch is payment enough." He laughed as Murphy's eyes turned deadly.

"As I said before, I'm not fuckin' interested." Murphy leaned in closer before continuing. "I would face down this entire fuckin prison by myself before I even considered gettin' mixed up with a piece of shit like yourself." Murphy had been trying to keep a cool head but he had no tolerance for the games this asshole was trying to play.

Tattoo Neck turned angry and looked as if he wanted to take a swing him, but he managed to calm himself down. "Fine, have it your way you Irish fuck. I'll just let them kill you and with you gone that fucking brother of yours will be all on his own. But don't worry, I will make him the same offer I made you."

Murphy had heard enough. He knew there was no danger of Connor ever making such a deal, but he was tired of listening to this vile man talk. Quicker than Tattoo Neck could react Murphy flipped his tray of food into the other man's face. His meal went flying in all directions and both men jumped to their feet. Murphy looked as if he was about to launch himself across the table when the sound of a guard's baton smacking down on a hard surface echoed through the cafeteria. Both inmates stopped in their tracks and looked up.

"Make one more move and you will both be headed to solitary! Sit down! Now!" The guard looked prepared to take further action should the two men decide to ignore him and continue fighting. Luckily for him, both inmates stood down.

Murphy grinned tauntingly at the man across from him who was slowly making his way back to his original table. Tattoo Neck muttered something unintelligible under his breath but there was no mistaking the threat in his eyes. After gathering what he could of his scattered lunch Murphy took his seat and tried to ignore the many sets of eyes that were on him.

The rest of mealtime passed without incident and when it was over the inmates were moved outside for an hour of yard time. Murphy was a bit uneasy about being back in the outdoor enclosure but he played it cool. As much as it bruised his pride he followed Connor's advice and stayed close to the guards. He posted himself up by the entrance, keeping his back to the fence and his eyes on the other inmates. Murphy maintained that position for the entire hour and it was a relief when the guards finally lined them up and led them back to D block. The inmates were directed back into their cells and a quick head count was taken before the doors were closed. It was mentally exhausting constantly keeping his guard up and, when Murphy's cell finally closed, he collapsed onto his bed and passed out instantly.

That evening, after an uneventful dinner, the inmates were left to roam the cellblock for their two hours of free time before lights out. Murphy remained seated on the floor of his cell with his back against the far wall and his eyes on the doorway. His nerves were shot and he had chewed his thumbnail down to the quick as he often did when he was under stress. When the guards finally turned out the lights and closed the cellblock up for the night, Murphy crawled from his spot on the floor up into his bed and lay on his back, staring up at the top bunk above him where Connor normally slept. He knew that, somewhere in the prison ranks, there was a Saints supporter because he and Connor had been assigned to the same cell, with Romeo in the cell directly across from them where they could keep an eye on him.

Murphy wondered how Connor was holding up. He knew his brother was probably going crazy in isolation and would be willing to bet that his twin had already worn a groove in the floor from endless pacing. Connor never could sit still when he was anxious; a habit that often drove Murphy a bit crazy. Having his brother gone was like missing a piece of himself and it left him with an acute sense of loneliness. Connor was his best friend and the one person in his life who had always been there when he needed him. Their Ma may have never divulged her closely guarded secret of which twin was born first but it really didn't matter because Connor had always filled the big brother role much better than he did. Murphy rolled over with a sigh and allowed thoughts of his family to relax him and carry him into sleep.

/ / /

Over the next three days Murphy stuck to his strategy of remaining close to the guards and staying in his cell as often as possible. Aside from dirty looks and mumbled threats, no one had made a move on him yet. It was on the morning of his fifth day alone that Murphy could sense a change in the air. In the cafeteria at breakfast he could feel the eyes and hear the whispers but when he looked they would avert their eyes. Looking around the dining hall he noticed the only inmate who would meet his gaze was Tattoo Neck, and his expression was less than friendly. Murphy kept his senses sharp and tried to ignore the tension but his instincts were screaming at him that something wasn't right.

After breakfast the prisoners were taken back to their cellblock for free time and Murphy took up his usual spot on the floor against the back wall of his cell. About halfway into their two hours he raised his head sharply as the sound of a scuffle and shouting reached his ears. Standing quickly to his feet Murphy crossed the length of his cell and leaned out the door, trying to see what was happening. It appeared that two inmates had gotten into an argument and were now brawling it out on the floor while the guards attempted to separate them.

Focused on what was happening at the other end of the cellblock, Murphy was completely unprepared when two men came out of nowhere and slammed into him, forcing him to the back of his cell. He may have been caught off guard but he recovered quickly and began fighting back. One of his attackers was attempting to pin him up against the wall and Murphy brought his elbow down hard on the back of his head.

"Son of a bitch!" the recipient of Murphy's elbow cursed.

"Hold him damnit!" the other inmate growled.

Murphy kicked out at the one who spoke and nailed him in the stomach, doubling him over. After the inmate recovered from the kick he rushed forward and punched Murphy in the face in an attempt to subdue him. The blow barely slowed him down and he continued to fight like a cornered wildcat. Murphy saw the man who had punched him pull a shank from his pocket and aim for his midsection but the makeshift knife never met its mark. He had managed to push away the man that had been holding him against the wall and used the opportunity to deflect the stab and punch his attacker in the side of the head. Two against one was an unfair fight in any setting, but in such tight quarters it was impossible for Murphy to fend off both assailants at the same time and he quickly found himself being pressed back up against the wall. The inmate with the shank recovered from the blow to his head and, raising his weapon, he prepared to take another stab, this time in Murphy's heart. Murphy saw the prisoner's intention and desperately grabbed the man's arm while simultaneously attempting to fight off the inmate keeping him pinned to the wall. Murphy lacked both the strength and the leverage to fend off the incoming spike but managed to divert it up away from his heart and into his shoulder. The pain was intense and Murphy cried out in rage.

"Fuck! Fuck you! Motherfucker!"

The shank was ripped from his shoulder and brought back, ready to be plunged into him again, when the guards finally caught on to what was happening and spilled into his cell. Using their batons they beat his attackers to the ground and slapped handcuffs on their wrists before yanking them up and hauling them out. Murphy allowed himself to slide down the wall till he was sitting on the ground. Gripping his injured shoulder, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking deep breaths as he tried to calm his racing heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Are you ok? Where are you hurt?"

Murphy, who was still sitting on the floor against the back wall of his cell, looked up into the eyes of the person who was speaking to him. He recognized the young man as the prison guard who had joked around with him the day his uncle had come to visit. "Aye, I'm fine." Murphy winced as he lifted his hand from his wound to inspect it more closely. "It's only my fuckin' shoulder."

The guard inhaled sharply when he caught sight of the injury. "That looks deep. Come on, we need to get you help. Can you stand?"

Murphy looked back up at the guard and was surprised by the genuine concern he saw in the young man's gaze. He nodded and accepted the hand being offered down to him. He was unsteady on his feet for a moment and the guard reached a hand out to support him. "Thanks," Murphy said, sincerely grateful for the man's help.

The guard gave a thin smile and lay a gentle hand on Murphy's back, directing him out of the cell. "Let's just get you up to the infirmary."

Out in the cellblock, the other guards were busy ordering inmates back into their cells preparing to lockdown D block. Murphy could see up ahead where his attackers were being forcefully shoved through the cellblock door on their way to solitary.

"Edwards! What in the hell do you think you're doing?" a voice from across the block yelled out.

The officer accompanying Murphy pulled up short and turned to face the man who had spoken. "I was just going to escort Mr. MacManus to the infirmary. He has an injury that needs medical attention."

"You're not going anywhere until that inmate is properly restrained."

Murphy glanced behind him and recognized the guard speaking as officer Jones. The man was glaring at him like he expected him to make a break for it at any moment. The guard, who Murphy now knew as Edwards, was looking back and forth between his prisoner and officer Jones, obviously at a loss.

"He was just stabbed in his shoulder, sir. I don't think he is going to try anything, and moving his arm to cuff him will only cause him more pain and possibly more damage."

Jones yanked a pair of handcuffs off his belt and strode over to where Edwards was standing with Murphy. "I don't give two shits about his pain! The only thing I care about is the safety of my officers!" he yelled, thrusting the restraints in the other guard's face. "Now cuff him, or I will."

"Yes sir," Edwards conceded, accepting the metal cuffs.

Murphy watched the exchange unfold and, when it became clear that he was going to have to endure the handcuffs, he removed his right hand from where he was using it to keep pressure on his still bleeding wound and put his arms behind his back. The movement put a strain on his injury, causing him to squeeze his eyes tightly shut. Officer Edwards heard a quiet groan escape the prisoner's throat and he gave him an apologetic look. Once the restraints were in place he turned back to his superior officer and raised his eyebrow in question.

Officer Jones inclined his head in approval. "Now get him out of here."

Edwards turned to continue on his way when officer Jones stopped him again. "And Edwards," he waited until the younger man turned to face him, "after you deliver him, we need you back down here to help toss these cells."

Edwards gave a quick nod before continuing to gently lead Murphy out of the cellblock. "I'm sorry," the guard apologized quietly once they reached the halls of the main building.

Murphy glanced sidelong at the young man walking next to him. The lad couldn't have been older than twenty-five, and he had a gentleness about him that was out of place amongst the bloodthirsty criminals. Murphy saw guilt in the guard's eyes and he shook his head. "Ya don't need to be. Most of these guys in wouldn't think twice about knockin' ya over the head if they thought they could get away with it. Those rules are there to protect ya. I understand that."

Officer Edwards looked briefly over at Murphy before shrugging his shoulders and returning his gaze in front of him. "Yeah, I guess. If you were any other inmate I wouldn't have hesitated but, you and your brother, you're not like the other prisoners here. You're different."

Murphy raised his eyebrows and an amused grin spread across his face. "Is that so? And what makes you so sure about that? Haven't you heard? I'm a vicious criminal. I'm fuckin' scary, man."

Edwards didn't smile at Murphy's attempt at humor; he just nodded and shrugged his shoulders again. "Maybe so, but I'm still not worried. I do know that there are men out there, and in here, who have great cause to fear you and your brother. That is why every convict in this place wants to see you dead. You, and the things that you stand for, scare them, and that is not an emotion they are accustomed to feeling."

The young man's insight had caught him off guard and Murphy wasn't quite sure how to respond. The pain in his shoulder was growing worse and he used the discomfort as a distraction from the conversation.

Officer Edwards took note of the way his prisoner winced while shifting his arms in the cuffs and he pulled the man to a stop. "Let me take another look." Peeling the blood-soaked shoulder of Murphy's navy blue prison jumpsuit away from the wound, he inspected the deep puncture. Shaking his head in disgust, the young man retrieved his keys from his pocket and stepped behind his prisoner, preparing to un-cuff him.

Murphy realized the guard's intention and tried to stop him. "Ya shouldn't do that. Really, it's fine. No need to be gettin' yourself in trouble."

"I'm just moving your hands in front of you. The angle should put less strain on that shoulder." One of his wrists was freed from the restraints and Murphy breathed a sigh of relief at being allowed to reposition his arms into a more comfortable position. "It's still bleeding pretty heavy. Here, we can use this," he said, pulling a handkerchief out of the front pocket of his uniform. "I can keep pressure on it while we walk."

Murphy nodded his agreement and, despite the pain it caused, allowed the young man to press firmly against the injury. Once everything was situated, Edwards continued to lead them down the hall in silence.

/ / /

Connor lay on his back on the small bed in his solitary cell, his eyes focused on the ceiling. He had removed one of his socks and tied it in a series of knots, creating a makeshift ball. Every thirty seconds or so he would throw his "ball" up in the air with his left hand and catch it with his bandaged right hand. He had been at this for hours now, or was it days? Time was a hard thing to keep track of in this place. He had been counting the meals brought to him by the guards and knew that he was in his fifth day of confinement, although it felt like months. During that time Connor had slept very little. It was hard, without any windows, to know if it was night or day. The entire experience had been rather disorienting.

Connor threw his sock in the air again, but this time when it came back down it slipped from his fingers and onto the floor. With a sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, rubbing his aching eyes and running a hand through his messy hair. He fidgeted absent-mindedly with the white gauze covering his right hand.

Somewhere around day two, the guards had taken note of his injured hand and drug him to the infirmary to get it fixed up. Dr. Schneider, despite being less than impressed with the self-destructive nature of Connor's injury, had cleaned and bandaged his wounds. Connor had used the opportunity to ask about Murphy; desperate for any news on how his brother was holding up. Dr. Schneider told him of his offer to speak with the warden about protective custody, and that Murphy had refused. Connor understood his brother's decision, hell he probably would have made the same choice, however, that didn't stop him from cursing Murphy's unbending stubborn streak.

Once Connor's wounds had been dressed, the guards escorted him back to his cell. Before they closed the door on him they warned him if he couldn't control himself he would be spending the rest of his isolation in a padded room up in the Psych wing.  
Connor fidgeted with the gauze a little longer before unwrapping it completely and discarding the soiled bandage in the corner of his cell. He was just about to retrieve his sock ball and resume his game when the muffled sounds of a scuffle and angry shouting drifted to him through the steel door of his cell. Jumping up from the bed, Connor flew across the room and peered through the small glass window set high in the door. He watched as two guards forced two struggling and cursing inmates down the hall. As they drew closer he realized that he recognized the prisoners from D block.

Connor thought his heart was going to stop. What had happened? Did this have anything to do with Murphy? When the group passed in front of Connor's cell he could see what looked like blood smeared across the front of the first inmates shirt. Panic gripped him and he began banging on his cell door.

"Hey! What happened? What the fuck did you do?" he yelled out to the men in the hall.

The second inmate to be forced past Connor's cell looked up at the sound of his voice. When the convict saw who it was on the other side of the door he flashed him a malevolent grin and laughed, allowing Connor's imagination to run wild with possibilities.

"What the fuck did you do!?" He demanded again, pounding harder on his door in frustration. When no one responded he took to beating the steel barrier with both fists as hard as he could until the wounds on his right hand had reopened and began bleeding freely once more.

After several minutes of unrestrained rage, a guard appeared in the window of Connor's cell and smacked the glass with an open palm. "You only get one warning MacManus! Get yourself under control, now!"

Connor relented and backed away from the door. His chest was heaving and he gripped his hair with both fists as he tried to calm himself down. The guard, satisfied that the prisoner was backing down, disappeared out of sight. Connor returned to his seat on the edge of his bed and bent over, putting his head between his knees with his hands laced behind his neck. He was going to kill them. If they took his brother from him, he was going to kill them all.

/ / /

"Well Murphy, I wish I could say it's nice to see you again but…" Dr. Schneider paused as he removed the handkerchief that officer Edwards had been using to staunch the bleeding, "there is nothing nice about this." After a quick examination of Murphy's shoulder, the doctor looked back up and laid a serious gaze on his patient. "You know, this really isn't how I wanted to start my day."

Murphy was gritting his teeth against the pain but he managed a light chuckle. "Sorry Doc, I'll try saying 'please' next time I'm askin' someone not to stab me. Maybe see if they can come back another time, yeah?"

Murphy's comment was dripping with sarcasm and Dr. Schneider narrowed his eyes, trying hard to deny the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. With a shake of his head he gave in and allowed the grin to form in full. Giving Murphy a pat on his good shoulder he stepped away and began pulling a variety of items from different locations around the infirmary. After retrieving the necessary supplies he returned to the bed where Murphy was sitting. Discarding the items onto a table, Dr. Schneider pulled a chair up and got to work cleaning out the stab wound.

"Your brother was in here a few days ago," the doctor said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

Murphy's face registered confusion. "What the fuck was he in here for? The clumsy fool manage to hurt himself in solitary confinement?" he asked with a hint of humor.

"It was no accident," Dr. Schneider glanced up at Murphy before refocusing on his task. "He knew full well what would come from using his cell door as a punching bag. He is lucky he didn't break his hand."

Murphy shook his head and looked down at the bed sheets beneath him. "Dumbass," he whispered under his breath. He knew why Connor had done what he did. His brother was worried, frustrated, and angry, and he unleashed those emotions on the closest thing standing in his way. It was stupid, but Murphy understood. "Other than a busted hand, how did he look?" he raised his eyes to meet Dr. Schneider's.

"Tired," the doctor stated simply. It was quiet for a few minutes before he continued speaking. "I can't, in good conscience, send you back out there alone, Murphy. Not after this. This injury was only a few inches away from being fatal. You don't realize how lucky you are to still be alive."

Murphy started shaking his head and interrupted the man. "We've already had this discussion Doc, and my decision still stands. I wont back down to them."

"You don't have a choice. I heard from the guards that Connor and Romeo are being released from solitary in two days. I am keeping you in here for the remainder of that time," he said firmly.

Murphy opened his mouth to protest, but Dr. Schneider held up a hand and cut him off. "I am the doctor, you are my patient, and this is my infirmary. Nobody leaves here until I give the okay, and I don't like the look of this wound. I need you close by so I can monitor it for signs of infection."

Murphy stared hard at the other man but Dr. Schneider didn't back down this time. The silent battle of wills lasted a few more moments before Murphy relented with a small grin. "Fine then, have it your way. I Suppose I can't argue with doctor's orders, now can I?"

"Good," Dr. Schneider said with a satisfied nod. "Now lets get this shoulder bandaged. The wound is jagged and torn so it may require stitches later on, but it is also very deep and suturing it up now will only increase your risk of infection. So, for now, we will bandage it and I will get you started on some IV antibiotics."

Murphy nodded and the doctor gathered up the trash and bloody rags, discarding them in the trash. Turning back to the table next to him, he rummaged through his supplies until he found a sterile bandage and fresh gauze. With hands that suggested years of experience, Dr. Schneider quickly bandaged the wound and inserted a needle into Murphy's arm, setting him up with an IV.

"All set. I suggest you use the time you have here to rest and recover your strength. I have a stack of books from the library in my office if you need something to pass the time."

Murphy relaxed back against the bed. "Thanks Doc. I think I'll just close my eyes for a bit."

Standing to leave, Dr. Schneider gave him a pat on the leg. "Let me know if you need anything."

Murphy nodded in thanks and closed his eyes; allowing all the tension from the last week to melt away as he drifted into a light sleep.

/ / /

Connor bolted upright in his bed when the sound of his door being unlocked broke the silence in his small solitary cell. The door creaked loudly on its hinges as it was pulled open, and Connor jumped to his feet.

"Turn around, hands behind your back," the guard standing at the open door ordered.

Connor did as he was told and flinched when he felt the cold metal of the handcuffs tighten down on his sore wrists. "What's goin' on?"

"You are being released back into gen. pop," the guard responded, pulling his prisoner around and pushing him out of the cell.

Connor felt his stomach do a flip. Two days had passed since the prisoners from D block were brought into solitary, and he had yet to receive any news on Murphy. He had no way of knowing if his brother was injured, dead, or even involved in the incident at all. As awful as not knowing was, Connor was more afraid of the answers he would receive when he returned to the cellblock. Pushing his fear aside, he walked with determined steps as fast as the guard would allow him to go. Whatever situation he found himself faced with, he would deal with it.

Up ahead in the narrow passage, Connor could see another inmate being pulled from their cell and he instantly recognized the prisoner as Romeo. The guard was being particularly rough with his friend and Connor smiled to himself when he heard Romeo cursing at the man in Spanish.

"Rome, no creo que eso ayuda / I don't think that is helping/" he called out to the man in front of him.

Romeo struggled to turn back and catch a glimpse of who was behind him. "Connor! Am I glad to see you! How ya doin' man?"

"Hangin' in there Rome, and yourself?"

"I was just trying to enjoy a little nap, when Señor Sol here, took rude awakening to a whole new level."

Connor chuckled at his friend but didn't bother responding as his anxieties settled back down on him. The walk to D block from the solitary building wasn't exactly a short one, and he used the time to prepare himself for what he would find when they arrived.

The other prisoners had already enjoyed their morning free time and, when Connor and Romeo were brought into the cellblock, everyone was locked away in their cells. The two returning inmates were escorted to their assigned cells and the doors were opened. Connors heart dropped and all of his fears from the past week came crashing down on him when he saw that the small chamber was empty. Murphy was gone.

/ / /

Murphy walked, prison guard in tow, thru the hallways of the main building from the infirmary back to D block. Dr. Schneider had released him from his care that morning, upon receiving the news that Connor had been taken out of isolation. Although it was still painful, Murphy's wound had begun healing nicely over the last two days with no sign of infection. He was going to have to go back regularly for check-ups, but he was well enough to leave the infirmary.

Murphy knew something was wrong and could hear the shouting before they even reached the D block door. When they arrived, the guard in the control room opened the gate and allowed them access into the cellblock. Murphy's jaw dropped in shock at the scene that greeted him once they were inside. Connor was standing in the center of the cellblock, arms still handcuffed behind him, struggling against the hands of two guards. His brother was shouting a variety of curses and threats that appeared to be directed at the other inmates in the cells. Murphy wasn't sure what had happened to cause his brother's violent reaction, but he knew he needed to attempt to calm him down before he got himself thrown back in solitary.

"Connor!" Murphy tried to call out to him but his brother's outburst had whipped the other prisoners into a frenzy and the noise was deafening. Murphy made a move to go to him but the officer who had been escorting him held him back. "Connor!"

The two guards who had been trying to gain control of the unruly prisoner had had enough. Sweeping Connor's feet out from under him, they brought him to his knees and when he continued to fight they forced him onto his stomach with a knee in the small of his back.

Murphy watched his brother get taken down and wrenched his arms free from the guard behind him, making a dash for Connor's position. Gaining his side, he dropped to his knees and made another attempt at speaking.

"Connor! What the fuck are ya doin'? Ya gotta calm down!"

At the sound of Murphy's voice, Connor stopped struggling and his head snapped up to meet his brother's eyes. "Murph?" he asked, his eyes registering relief. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, Murph, I thought ya were gone. You weren't here, are ya alright?"

Murphy's guard caught back up to him and, before he could answer Connor's questions, he was yanked back to his feet and pulled away. "Wait!" Murphy pleaded. He looked up at the guard that was kneeling on his brother's back and cringed inwardly when he saw it was Officer Jones. "Please sir, just let him up. He won't cause anymore problems."

"Let him up? I should be hauling his ass back down to solitary!" Jones replied angrily.

Murphy nodded and played it cool in an attempt to diffuse the guard's anger. "Yes, you should. He's an asshole and I have no good reason why you should let this slide. However, I promise you, if you let him up and allow us to go back to our cell, there will be no more trouble." Murphy saw Jones's indecision and held his breath. He just got his brother back; he didn't want him sent away again.

Officer Jones hesitated for a few moments before nodding and removing his knee from Connor's back. "Get these inmates back to their cell," he barked the order to the two guards standing by.

Murphy breathed a sigh of relief and allowed the officer behind him to push him towards his cell, while the other guard picked Connor up off the ground. Officer Jones removed his baton from his belt and slammed it against one of the steel tables nearby. The sound reverberated through the cellblock effectively silencing the rest of the prisoners who were still creating a disturbance. "D block will stay on lockdown for the remainder of the day! If I hear one more outburst from any of you, I will make sure you don't see the sun for a month!" With that said, he headed toward the exit without looking back.

As Murphy was being led back to his cell he glanced at Romeo, who had already been locked up across the way. His friend wore a shocked expression and Murphy gave him a reassuring nod. Romeo had already been locked in his cell by the time Connor had erupted into his fit of rage, and all he could do was watch helplessly. He was relieved when Murphy arrived on the scene and was able to get control of the situation. Romeo had never seen Connor lose control of his emotions in such a way and it had frightened him. Sure, both brothers possessed a certain fierceness, especially when it came to protecting family or friends, but in the short time he had known them he had never witnessed anything of that magnitude.

Once the brothers were both returned to their cell and the handcuffs removed, Connor took up his place on the top bunk and Murphy leaned against the wall, staring at his brother. He didn't ask for an explanation, he just stood there and stared. He knew Connor would talk when he was ready.

"I sat in that fuckin' isolation cell for over a week. It was torture not knowing if you were okay or if you had been hurt." Connor looked over and met his brother's eyes. "Not knowing if you had even survived the day." He paused briefly, redirecting his eyes back up at the ceiling, and Murphy waited him out patiently. "Two days ago, I watched as a couple of D block inmates were drug through solitary. Both men looked as if they had been in a tussle and one of them had blood smeared across his shirt. I knew it was from you. It didn't matter how many times I tried to convince myself otherwise. I knew it was you." Connor sat back up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, turning to face Murphy. "When I got back to the cellblock today and you weren't here…I don't know…I just… fuckin' lost it, Murph. I thought ya were gone."

Murphy nodded in understanding. "Those two men that ya saw, they jumped me in the fuckin' cell while the guards were distracted." Murphy pointed to the bruises on his face, "worked me over a bit before pullin' a shank." Drawing back the shoulder of his shirt, Murphy exposed the bandage underneath. "The bastard was aimin' for the heart but he didn't quite make it."

Connor felt his anger renewed at the sight of his brothers injury but let it go for now. They would pay soon enough. Murphy continued speaking and he looked up to meet his brother's gaze.

"Dr. Schneider kept me in the infirmary until you were released. He says the wound is healing well and, barring any further complications, there shouldn't be any lasting damage."

"You're alright." Connor felt like he had been holding his breath for the last week and when he said those two words he was finally able to breathe again.

Murphy pushed off the wall and gave his brothers leg a pat before settling in on the bottom bunk. "Aye, we're alright."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: I just want to take a moment to give a big thank you to those of you who have been reading and reviewing! I greatly appreciate the feedback, it really motivates me to continue writing and working on this story. So THANK YOU! I hope you guys continue to enjoy.**_

Chapter 4

"Connor, ya awake?" Murphy whispered into the darkness of the cell. With D block on lock down for the rest of that day, the brother's had spent a lot of time sleeping and thinking. After their initial reunion, the boys passed the day in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Both had a lot on their mind but neither was ready to share and the quiet had stretched comfortably between them. It wasn't until Murphy was laying in the dark, unable to sleep, that he felt the need to share his thoughts with his brother.

Connor was lying on his side staring into the darkness when Murphy's voice drifted up to him. "Aye," he responded quietly. He had been able to sense his brother's restless state of mind for the last several hours and he knew it would only be a matter of time before Murphy was ready to talk.

It was quiet for a few moments as Murphy worked through what he wanted to say and Connor waited him out. "Why do ya think we're here?" Murphy finally asked, breaking the silence.

"What do ya mean?" Connor knew his brother wasn't looking for the obvious answer as to why they were in prison. There was more behind the question and he wasn't sure how to answer.

"I mean… do ya think we are here for a reason? Do you believe this is part of some plan?"

Connor sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "I did. However, the longer we are here, the more I think we need to get the fuck out. I'm really not sure how we would manage that though."

It was quiet again for a few moments until Murphy spoke. "Uncle Sibeal visited while you were in solitary."

"Really?" Connor sat up and jumped lightly from his spot on the top bunk. "What did he say?" he asked as he took a seat on the bottom bed next to his brother.

Murphy pushed himself up, making room for Connor to sit. "He said that we have the support of the church, and that they've hired us a lawyer."

"I can't imagine a lawyer is going to do us any good at this juncture. From a legal standpoint I do believe we are fucked, Murph," Connor shook his head.

Murphy shrugged his shoulders and looked up at his twin. "I don't know, but Father Sibeal said this guy has a plan. We are supposed to be meetin' with him soon."

Connor nodded and looked thoughtful. "Did he say anythin' else?"

"Aye, he said he has been in contact with an old friend of ours and, together, they are workin' on a backup plan, incase things don't work out with the lawyer. Whatever the fuck that means." Murphy spoke around his thumbnail, which he was busy chewing on, attesting to his troubled state.

Connor looked about as confused as Murphy had felt when their uncle had first told him the news. "Friend? Who the fuck could he be talkin' about?"

"That's the question isn't it," Murphy said with a sigh, dropping his hand into his lap and leaning his head back to rest against the wall. "Dolly or Duffy maybe? But they're homicide detectives; I'm not sure what they could do for us. Besides, I doubt they would get involved again after what happened to Greenly." When Connor didn't say anything Murphy continued. "I agree with you. I think we need to get the fuck out of this place, but part of me doesn't feel right leaving while some of these assholes are still breathing."

"We may not have a choice, Murph. It may have to be enough that they are locked away from the general public." Connor moved his hand to rest on his brother's leg. "We can't get them all, and I would rather worry about the ones who still pose a threat."

"I know." Murphy nodded his agreement and resumed chewing his thumbnail. "So, what do we do then?"

Connor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "All we can do is wait and play it by ear. Let us just see what this lawyer has to say before we start makin' any plans, yeah?"

"Aye. Although, I'm afraid your little outburst earlier today isn't going to make things any easier for us. Ya really got the other inmates worked up and pissed off. They'll be gunnin' for us even harder now." Murphy felt compelled to point out the increased threat.

"Fuck them, we can handle it."

Murphy had to resist the urge to laugh. "Aye, the same way ya handled Geno and got yourself locked up in solitary? A lot of good that did us, hmmm?"

"Shut it, I did what needed to be done." Connor gave his brother a light shove. "Besides, somebody had to take care of ya, what with you lyin' on the ground unconscious and all."

Murphy shoved his brother back. "Oh, fuck you. I could have taken him if the bastard hadn't come up behind me like a fuckin' coward."

Connor chuckled and ruffled Murphy's hair. "Sure, whatever ya say Murph."

"Go fuck yourself, Connor," Murphy growled, swatting his brother's hand away.

Connor just laughed and jumped back up on the top bunk. Murphy lay back down and silence filled the cell once more. Just as he was drifting off to sleep the sound of Connor's voice broke the stillness.

"G' night Murph."

"Night Connor."

/ / /

The next morning, a buzzer sounded through D block signaling the start of the day. A chorus of groans could be heard through out the cellblock, protesting the seven A.M. wake up call. Connor rubbed his eyes and fought off the sleep that was trying to pull him back under. Jumping down from the top bunk, he looked in on Murphy who was covering his head with his pillow trying to block out the offensive noise and bright lights.

"C'mon Murph, time to wake up," Connor said as he kicked his brother's bed and yanked his covers away.

Murphy mumbled something unintelligible and tossed his pillow aside. Reluctantly, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I need a fuckin' cigarette," he muttered, scrubbing his face with his hands trying to wake himself up.

"You and me both." Connor gave his brother a pat on the back. "Unfortunately, we have to settle for powdered eggs and burnt toast."

The door to their cell slid open and the brother's stepped cautiously out into the cellblock. As they exited their cell the other inmates grew quiet and turned to glare at them. The hostility in the air was palpable and Murphy looked over at his brother. "Told ya they were pissed off," he whispered.

The guards, who were ordering the prisoners to line up, disrupted the tension, and once they were no longer the focus of attention, Connor turned to Murphy. "We just need to stay vigilant and keep our guard up. We'll be fine," he said, redirecting his attention to Romeo who was just now joining them.

The other man glanced around at the inmates before turning back to the brothers. "Why do I get the feeling that we're on the breakfast menu this morning?"

"We'll be fine!" Connor repeated himself more forcefully, as if trying to make himself believe it. Murphy just nodded and put a hand on his brother's shoulder, directing him and Romeo to the end of the line.

Things in the cafeteria were just as tense, and an animosity hung in the air so thick they felt as if they were choking on it. The guards had picked up on the change in energy and they attentively patrolled the mess hall, ready for anything.

After collecting their breakfast, the trio walked slowly and warily to a table in the back. Connor and Romeo sat on one side of the long table and Murphy sat directly across from them, leaving nobody's back unprotected. The three men sat and ate their breakfast in silence until Connor kicked Murphy under the table and nodded his head, indicating something behind his brother.

"That fella over there hasn't stopped starin' at ya since we sat down. He a friend of yours Murph?"

Murphy turned and glanced casually behind him. There, sitting at a table in the middle of the cafeteria, was Tattoo Neck. The man was gazing at him with an unreadable expression and when he saw Murphy turn to look at him he narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Murphy offered up a scowl of his own before turning back to his brother and Romeo.

"We may have had a bit of a disagreement last week while you two were locked up."

Romeo leaned to the side, glancing around Murphy, trying to see who the brothers were looking at. "That's George Maddox. He's a bad motherfucker, man. In here on six counts of murder, along with multiple sexual assault and battery charges."

Connor looked over at his friend with an eyebrow raised. "How the fuck do ya know that?"

"My cellmate. He is harmless enough. In here for grand theft or some shit like that, but he has been in here so long I swear he knows every con in this place. From what I hear, this Maddox asshole is not somebody you want to mess with."

"Yeah well, fuck him!" Murphy said angrily. "I'm positive that those two fuckers who jumped me in the cellblock the other day, were his guys. If I ever get the fuckin' chance, he is the first motherfucker I'm comin' for."

Connor didn't bother trying to calm Murphy's anger. He actually agreed whole-heartedly with the idea. Looking back over at the man who was still eyeballing his brother, Connor felt his own ire begin to rise. "We'll have to keep a close eye on him. He tried to get at ya once, you can bet he'll do it again."

Murphy gave a short humorless laugh. "I'd like to see him fuckin' try that shit again."

Connor shook his head at his brother. "Don't get cocky now Murph, it will only invite trouble. We just need to keep our fuckin' heads down." He looked seriously at Murphy and then at Romeo. When neither said anything Connor picked up his fork and continued eating his breakfast.

After the meal the guards brought the prisoners back to D block for their morning free time. Connor and Murphy had just entered their cell with Romeo when Officer Edwards appeared in the doorway with another guard.

"You two need to come with us, your lawyer is requesting a meeting with you."

Connor and Murphy looked at each other with hopeful expressions and moved toward the door. Hesitating, Murphy turned back toward Romeo. "What about him?" he asked, looking back at the guard.

Edwards shrugged and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I was only told to bring you and your brother."

Connor and Murphy glanced at each other again, unsure what to do. They didn't feel right leaving their friend here alone, especially with tensions so high among the inmates.

Romeo noticed the brothers' concern and shooed them away. "Get out of here, I can handle myself."

Murphy patted the man on the shoulder. "We'll be back," he said before allowing the guards to cuff him and lead him and Connor from the cellblock.

The two guards guided their prisoners through the main building until they reached a small room just down the hall from the visitation area. Officer Edwards pulled a ring of keys off his belt and unlocked the door, allowing the brothers access. Seated at the table in the center of the room was a man in his late forties, who had dark, slowly graying hair, glasses, and wore a serious expression.

Once inside, the guards removed their handcuffs and stepped back out into the hall. "We will be right outside when you are done," Edwards said before closing the door.

When the brothers entered, the lawyer stood to his feet and waited for the restraints to be removed before offering his hand. "It's nice to meet you Murphy, Connor," he said, shaking their hands and addressing them individually. "My name is Joseph Hunt. I've been hired by your uncle to represent you boys in court."

Connor and Murphy nodded and returned the greeting before taking a seat across the table from Mr. Hunt. The lawyer shuffled through his briefcase, which sat open on the table in front of him, before looking back up at his clients. "Let's get started, shall we? Now, when you were arrested you were denied bail. My first order of business is to remedy that situation." He looked pointedly at the bruises that were still healing on Murphy's face. "I have a feeling you will agree with me when I say, getting you out of this place should be our first priority."

Connor and Murphy shared a glance before nodding their agreement. When the brothers approved Mr. Hunt continued.

"Good. So, as of now, the prosecution is working off the idea that you boys are, in fact, these vigilante Saints that you are accused of being. However, the evidence isn't as solid as they would have you believe. There is only one crime scene in which they can, without a doubt, connect you to, and that is the one where you were arrested. They have the courtroom scene where Joe Yakavetta was executed eight years ago, but by some miracle they have been unable to track down any witnesses who are willing to come forth and give a positive I.D. on you boys."

Connor held his hand up, interrupting the man. "What about the Yakavetta family members who were attending the trial? Surely they would be more than willin' to step up if it meant keepin' us locked in here."

Mr. Hunt shook his head. "Indeed they would… if they could be found. Many of the Yakavetta family members scattered after Papa Joe's murder. While some stayed in Boston to continue his work, most fled to various parts of the country or back home to Italy. The only remaining available witness on the Yakavetta side was Papa Joe's son, Concezio Yakavetta. Fortunately for us, a recent attack on the Italian mafia has taken care of that problem." He stared seriously at the brothers when he made mention of the Saints handiwork.

Connor and Murphy glanced sidelong at each other but didn't react otherwise when Mr. Hunt brought up the Murder of Concezio. After a few moments of silence Connor ventured a question. "So, what about the crime scene where we were taken into custody? What do they have on us there?"

Mr. Hunt sighed and leaned back in his chair. "That could pose a little more of a problem, but I may be able to make a case of self defense. I can try to spin it so it looks like you boys went to this location in search of your father, and upon arrival you discovered it was a trap. Armed men were waiting for you on the inside and once you entered the building, The Roman had his men outside surround the place. It is kind of a stretch and may be difficult to sell but I am afraid it is our only option. However, we don't have to work out all those details just yet. Your trial isn't for another six months, at least. For now, my main focus is convincing the judge to set bail."

Murphy was a bit skeptical of the lawyers plan but he supposed it was their best shot. There was only one more issue that was bothering him. "What about Romeo? Even if the Judge does agree to bail, we won't be going anywhere without him."

Connor nodded his agreement. "Aye, he is here because of us and we won't abandon him."

Mr. hunt nodded in understanding. "I will be negotiating bail agreements for all three of you. However, the prosecution is uncertain of the extent to which your friend was involved and his charges differ from yours. Therefore, he will be standing trial alone."

Connor and Murphy began protesting but Hunt cut them off. "I will be providing my services to Romeo and I promise to do everything I can for him. Honestly, from a legal perspective, he is in a much better position than you boys."

Satisfied that their friend wouldn't be left to fend for himself, the brothers relaxed back into their chairs and allowed the lawyer to continue.

"Your bail hearing is set for nine A.M. tomorrow morning. I will be speaking on your behalf so there will be no need for you to make an appearance." After rummaging through his briefcase for a moment Mr. Hunt selected a business card and handed it over to Connor. "Give me a call tomorrow afternoon. I will let you know how it went and we will go from there." Snapping his briefcase shut, he stood to his feet and shook the brother's hands in parting.

"Thank you sir, for everythin'," Connor said, rising from his chair as Mr. Hunt walked around the table towards the door.

The lawyer nodded and gave a thin smile. "You boys just hang in there and hopefully tomorrow I will have some good news."

After Mr. Hunt left, Connor and Murphy exchanged looks as the guards filed back in to replace their handcuffs and return them to D block. The other inmates were still enjoying their free time and when Connor and Murphy were released into their midst most of them stopped what they were doing and glared at them. The brothers were used to this reaction by now and did their best to ignore it as they made their way back to their cell. Halfway through the block, Murphy felt a presence behind his right shoulder and quickly spun to face the perceived threat. He wasn't surprised when he was met with George Maddox's smirking face.

"Did you boys have a nice chat with your lawyer?" the larger man asked in a mockingly friendly voice.

Connor stopped walking when he saw his brother turn around and he stepped back up to Murphy's side. Neither brother responded to the other inmate, they just stood and stared, ready for anything.

"I bet he has big plans to get you two fucks out of here doesn't he?" Maddox continued, his face flashing anger briefly before shrugging his shoulders and allowing a taunting smile to take it's place. "It doesn't matter what he has planned, you Saint assholes won't ever leave this place alive." He took a step closer to the brothers but they stood their ground. "There isn't an inmate in this joint that doesn't want to put you in a body bag. You live your life thinking you are better than all of us, but you fail to realize you ARE one of us. Murderers."

Murphy clinched his jaw and curled his fists at his side, but Connor's hand on his shoulder kept him from reacting.

Maddox leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice dangerously. "I will burn this place to the ground before I let you walk out of here with your lives." Turning his focus to Murphy he shook is head in pity. "It's a shame. You should have taken my offer, Saint. It's not too late. I'll give you one more chance to be mine. Just follow me into my cell and we can seal the deal."

It was Murphy's turn to hold Connor back as his brother attempted to lunge at the other prisoner. Connor wasn't sure what deal Maddox was referring to, but he didn't like what the man was insinuating and wanted nothing more than to beat his face into the ground.

Maddox laughed at Connor's display of anger and raised his hands in surrender. "Easy there, I didn't mean to make you feel left out. You are more than welcome to come and join us, the more the merrier." He laughed at himself as if he were incredibly clever.

Connor looked like he wanted to take the man's head off and Murphy was tempted to let him, but the guards took note of the escalating situation and ordered them to back off. Maddox continued to smile at the brothers as he walked backwards towards his cell, and Murphy pulled Connor away with him.

Romeo was still waiting for them back in their cell and when he heard the commotion he stuck his head out. "What the hell was that about?" he asked once the brothers had reached the cell.

"Nothin," Connor responded, the anger still evident in his voice. He and Murphy pushed past their friend and entered the small chamber, both taking a seat on the bottom bunk.

"What did the lawyer say?" Romeo asked, turning to the brothers.

Connor ran a hand through his hair with a sigh and began relaying everything that Mr. Hunt had told them. When he was done Romeo nodded his head enthusiastically. "Well, why the fuckin' long faces? That doesn't sound so hopeless. We just have to survive in here long enough to see it through."

Murphy stood to his feet and walked to the door, glancing around the cellblock before turning to his friend. "Yeah well," he placed a hand on Romeo's shoulder, "that is becoming increasingly more difficult. These assholes won't be content to wait much longer. The tension is building and they want their fuckin' blood. This place is like a fuckin' powder keg ready to blow.

Connor stood, joining Romeo and his brother at the door. "Then let us hope we receive some good news tomorrow," he said quietly as he stared out at the sea of hostile inmates.

/ / /

The rest of the day passed by business as usual. However, the enmity between the Saints and the convicts continued to grow and dirty looks, threats and curses were continuously thrown their way. Neither Connor nor Murphy slept very well that night and when the alarm sounded the next morning they were both mentally drained. Dragging themselves out of their beds, they followed the rest of the inmates to the cafeteria for breakfast.

"You guys look like shit," Romeo stated bluntly once they were all three seated at a table.

"Thanks Rome," Connor rolled his eyes, "just a bit stressed is all. Can't remember the last time I had a good night's sleep."

Romeo snorted in disgust. "Yeah? Well, at least your cellmate doesn't snore so loud it vibrates the fuckin' bed, man."

Connor's reply was cut short when Murphy's elbow bumped his ribs. Redirecting his attention, he saw his brother was focused on something across the room.

"Look who's back," Murphy said around a mouthful of food, indicating the direction with a nod of his head.

Connor directed his gaze across the cafeteria and swore under his breath when he saw what had caught his brother's attention. A guard had just walked in escorting Geno Pisani who must have finally been released from solitary confinement. The man was still healing from the beating Connor had given him and yellow bruises covered his face.

"Well that's just what we fuckin need, isn't it? Although," Connor paused and smiled to himself, giving Murphy a quick bump with his elbow, "I will say… he's lookin' a bit rough, isn't he Murph?"

Murphy glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye and grinned. "Aye, you're real fuckin' proud of yourself aren't ya?"

Connor laughed and nodded. "Of course I fuckin' am, look at the poor bastard."

"I'm looking at him and he looks pretty fucking pissed to me," Romeo said, turning back around to face the brothers.

Connor and Murphy watched as Geno collected his breakfast tray and made his way toward a table where the members of his group were awaiting his return. When the convict walked past George Maddox's table, Tattoo Neck snagged the other man's shirt and motioned for him to take a seat. Geno seemed to hesitate for a moment before relenting and accepting the empty chair that had been pushed towards him. The two convicts began what looked like an intense conversation and after a few moments both men glanced over their shoulders in the brother's direction before turning and continuing their discussion. Connor and Murphy looked at each other. They knew this boded ill for them.

/ / /

The rest of the morning ticked by slowly and the brothers waited anxiously for an opportunity to make the call to their lawyer. During the three hours of cell time before dinner, Murphy was summoned to the infirmary to have his shoulder injury re-dressed and Connor utilized his weekly phone call to contact Mr. Hunt.

After his wound had been treated and Dr. Schneider was satisfied with the healing progress, Murphy was taken back to D block. Back in the cell he found Connor sitting on the floor against the back wall, his head bowed in defeat. "What happened?" he asked hesitantly.

Connor looked up from where he was sitting and gave his head a shake. "The judge denied bail."

Murphy simply nodded and sat down on his bed. He really hadn't expected it to go any other way, but he had hoped. "Then I guess we will just have to keep on survivin'."

Connor sighed and gave his twin's knee a pat. "Aye, that we will."

The brothers sat there together in silence until the doors in the cellblock opened, indicating dinnertime. The moment that Connor, Murphy and Romeo stepped foot in the cafeteria they could feel the change. There was an energy in the air that made the hair on the back of their necks stand on end and their stomach tie in knots. Nothing was visibly out of the ordinary, however, their instincts seemed to sense that something was amiss and it set them on edge.

Once the trio reached their table, Connor broke the news to Romeo about their bail request being denied. The man looked a little disappointed but shook it off quickly. "So, what's our next move?" he asked, trying to remain positive.

Connor looked at his friend and shook his head at a loss. "We have no more moves Rome. Our only move is to stay alive and put our faith in our friends on the outside."

"Well, that sounds re-"

"Connor!" Romeo's response was cut off when Murphy whispered his brother's name in alarm.

The apprehension in Murphy's voice caused Connor to look up quickly and what he saw made his blood run cold. A silence had fallen over the cafeteria and every set of eyes was turned in their direction. "What the fuck is happening?" Connor questioned quietly, his uneasiness evident in his voice.

Before Murphy had a chance to reply, the prisoners set down their eating utensils and they all stood to their feet in unison. The guards responded instantly and began shouting at the convicts to stand down and take their seats, but their orders went unheeded. Connor, Murphy and Romeo very slowly gained their feet, afraid that any sudden movement might set off an attack response. In the face of over forty inmates, they waited, for waiting was the only thing they could do.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N : _I apologize for the short chapter, but it was either post this now, or wait another week and post an extra long chapter. I opted for the short chapter but I promise next post will be longer. Hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think!_**

Chapter 5

For what felt like an eternity, no one moved. The guards continued to shout at the inmates and when the prisoners failed to comply, they began threatening them with their batons and pepper spray. Still no one budged. One of the officers, who had bolted at the first sign of trouble, came back in carrying an armload of rifles loaded with non-lethal rounds and began passing the guns off to the other guards.

Taking aim at the inmates standing at the head of the group the officers shouted their command one more time, "Stand down and return to your seats!" When no one responded the guards discharged their weapons, bringing a handful of prisoners to the ground.

The gunfire resonating through the cafeteria was like the breaking of a dam. The inmates scattered. Half of them charged the guards, and the other half ran straight for Connor, Murphy and Romeo.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" Connor's heart leapt into his throat as he grabbed his brother and Romeo by the back of their shirts, yanking them toward to nearest door. Fortunately for them, they had enough sense to choose a table along the perimeter of the mess hall so there was no one standing in between them and the back exit.

Throwing the door open, Connor pushed Murphy and Romeo through before slamming it shut in the face of their pursuers. Together they took off at a dead run, pelting down the quiet halls of the prison with the mob of inmates hot on their heels. Rounding a corner, the trio found themselves faced with four, fully armed guards, sporting complete riot gear, and were forced to skid to a halt.

"Hands in the air!"

"Down on the ground!" the officers all began shouting at once.

Connor, Murphy and Romeo raised their arms in surrender but glanced nervously behind them. They never had the opportunity to warn the guards of what was coming before the angry horde of prisoners spilled around the corner. The prison guards seemed shocked by the sheer number of inmates charging toward them, but wasted no time in addressing the new threat.

The officer closest to Romeo grabbed the Mexican and pulled him behind the line of guards. "Get behind us!" he yelled, directing the brothers to do the same.

Adjusting their aim, the officers trained their weapons on the men at the head of the mob and shouted a warning. When the convicts continued their headlong rush they opened fire without a moments hesitation.

The spray of blood told Connor that these guards were using lethal rounds. However, they were severely outnumbered and their attempt to put down the resistance was to no effect. The inmates leading the charge dropped to the ground clutching their injuries, but it didn't slow the rest of the convicts who, with a shout akin to a war cry, plowed into the line of guards, knocking the men to the ground.

Connor watched as the prison guards were taken down and began pulling Murphy and Romeo backwards down the hall. "We need to move." He spoke quietly to his brother. The throng of inmates quickly stripped the officers of their riot gear and relieved them of their weapons before refocusing on their original prey. "Now, Murph! GO!" Connor shouted when Murphy failed to react quickly enough. Pushing his brother and Romeo down the hall in front of him, the trio continued flee.

Murphy wasn't really sure where they were going as he led them blindly through the narrow halls. The shouting of the prisoners behind them was growing quieter as they outdistanced their pursuers and attempted to lose them through the many twists and turns of the main building. It was eerily quiet in the dark passages and the silence left an uneasy feeling in the pit of Murphy's stomach. Where were all the guards? What the _fuck_ was going on?

After rounding the next bend, Murphy came to a stop and raised his hand, requesting silence. Holding his breath, he listened for a few moments before nodding and leaning back against the wall behind him. "I think we lost 'em," he panted, resting one hand on his knee and clutching his injured shoulder with the other, wincing at the pain brought on by their flight.

Connor noticed Murphy's pinched expression and moved to rest a hand on his brother's back. Looking up into his twin's concerned eyes, Murphy gave a little nod. He was fine.

Both brothers glanced up as Romeo spoke, "So what the fuck are we supposed to do now?" he whispered, peering cautiously around the corner they were hiding behind.

Pushing away from the wall, Murphy straightened and met his brother's eyes. Connor was always the one with the plan, but this time Murphy had ideas of his own. "This is our chance, Connor," he spoke quietly but his tone was fierce. "I'm tired of being the prey. It is time for us to hunt these mother fuckers down and end their miserable existence."

Connor was shaking his head before Murphy had even finished speaking. "You're gettin' ahead of yourself, Murph. We don't have a clue what the fuck is goin' on here. We are severely outnumbered and, more importantly, unarmed." Connor saw the familiar flash of defiance in Murphy's eyes and he laid a firm hand on his brother's shoulder, giving him a little shake. "Listen to me Murph, I need ya with me on this. My main concern at the moment is getting' us through this alive. I promise ya, sendin' these assholes to their judgment is very high on my list of priorities, but we need to proceed with caution. I'm just askin' for a little patience is all."

Murphy stared hard at his brother before relenting with a nod. He would do whatever Connor asked, no matter how much he despised it at the time. He trusted his brother implicitly and had always relied on him as a voice of reason. "What do you suggest we do then?"

Connor sighed and stepped back, looking over at Romeo who had been keeping watch while the brothers worked out their differences. "We need to figure out the extent of the situation here. It's too fuckin' quiet, this place should be crawling with guards." He looked up and down the silent hall before nodding in the direction they had been previously headed. "Let's move on carefully, maybe we can find somethin' to defend ourselves with or, at the very least, someone that isn't out for our fuckin' blood and can tell us what the hell is goin' on."

Romeo slapped a hand on Connor's shoulder, "We're following you, brother."

Connor nodded gratefully and turned back to his twin who had remained quiet. "Murph?"

Murphy looked up to meet his brother's gaze and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Well, lets fuckin' do it then," he grinned and stepped aside, gesturing for Connor to take the lead.

"Alright then," Connor said as he started back down the narrow passage. "If I remember right, the guards quarters and armory are somewhere in this vicinity. We should probably-" Connor had been looking back at his brother and friend as he walked and was unprepared when the butt of a rifle snaked around the next corner, smashing into the side of his head.

Romeo yelled out in surprise and Murphy lunged forward when he saw his brother crumple to the ground and lay motionless. Kneeling down by Connor's side, Murphy put a hand to the bleeding wound on his twin's head and looked up just as a group of five guards stepped around the bend, blocking their path.

"Well, look who we have here boys!" one of them announced in a mocking tone.

The man who spoke lifted the visor of his riot helmet and Murphy's face turned into a mask of rage when he found himself looking into the eyes of George Maddox. These men weren't guards but rather inmates who had liberated some unfortunate officers of their equipment.

"Son of a bitch!" Murphy growled as he launched himself at the man sneering down at him. Quicker than anyone could react, Murphy grabbed Maddox by the front of his body armor and landed a solid punch to the convict's face.

Maddox stumbled backwards as the other four members of his group fumbled over each other trying to grab a hold of Murphy, who was pulling his fist back for another blow. Springing into action, Romeo rammed his shoulder into the stomach of the inmate who was trying to get Murphy into a headlock and pinned the man up against the wall. Ripping the prisoner's helmet off, he grabbed the inmate by the hair and slammed his head against the brick wall twice before letting him fall to the ground.

Murphy was finally wrestled away from Maddox when one of the convicts caught him in a full nelson and pulled him back, allowing the fourth inmate to deliver a swift punch to his exposed midsection. Murphy hardly had a chance to recover his breath from the first hit before a fist made a solid connection with his nose, causing blood to pour down his face. Romeo saw the trouble his friend was in and rushed to his aid.

Murphy flinched as his attacker prepared to strike him again but the blow never came. Cracking one eye open, He was surprised to see Romeo on the back of the man who had been beating him, dragging the inmate to the ground. Rallying his strength, Murphy managed to break the hold of the man behind him and pull away. Before he could retaliate, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Enough of this! Keep fighting if you want, Saint, but your brother here will pay the price!"

Murphy looked over to where Connor was still out cold on the ground and his heart jumped into his throat at what he saw. Geno Pisani, the fifth member of Maddox's posse, stood over Connor's still body with the barrel of his rifle hovering over his brother's head. Murphy glanced over at Romeo before nodding at his friend and quickly raising his hands in submission. He had no doubt in his mind that Geno would pull that trigger and Murphy wasn't willing to risk his twin's life like that.

The instant he surrendered, a very angry George Maddox stormed over and punched Murphy in the head so hard it knocked him to the floor. Reaching down, the enraged convict grabbed the front of Murphy's shirt and lifted him off the ground just enough to slam his fist into his face and knock him back down again. Murphy rolled onto his side with a groan before slowly pushing himself back up to his knees, staring defiantly at the man standing over him.

"You won't be glaring much longer you Irish fuck," Maddox threatened when he saw the look of rebellion in Murphy's eyes. Digging into his pocket he pulled out two sets of handcuffs tossing one at Murphy and the other at Romeo. "Cuff yourselves," he demanded. When neither man made a move to obey, his face turned angry and he stalked over to where Geno was standing over Connor. Grabbing the gun from the other inmate he gave Connor a swift kick to the ribs and jammed the tip of the rifle against the unconscious man's temple before turning back to Murphy. "Cuff yourself or I blow a fucking hole in your brother's head!"

If looks could kill, Maddox would have been dead on the spot, but Murphy wasted no more time in disobeying. Picking up the handcuffs, he tightened them down on his wrists as Romeo followed suit.

"Good," Maddox nodded in satisfaction. Grabbing Murphy by the hair, he yanked him to his feet and directed another inmate to attend to Romeo. ""You'll be coming with us now. Someone pick this asshole up and carry him, we can't have him missing out on all the fun," he gave Connor another kick in passing.

Murphy watched as one of the convicts picked his brother up and threw him across their shoulders before leading them down the hall. An uneasy feeling in his gut was beginning to warn him that, if he didn't find a way out of this, they would all be dead before dawn.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:_ This chapter was incredibly difficult for me to write. I have literally been hung up on this chapter for the last three months and I finally have it done. I apologize if the writing is not up to par but I couldn't dwell on this anymore, I desperately want to move on with the story! Also, I have a few bits of Gaelic dialogue in this one. I don't speak the language so if the translation is off I apologize. So, good or bad, let me know what you think!_**

Chapter 6

The first thing Connor noticed when he came to was the pounding in his head that would have rivaled any hangover he had ever had. His vision was blurry but he could sense a presence nearby and, assuming it was his brother, he groaned lightly before attempting to call out to him. "Murph? What the hell happened?" When there was no response he squinted, trying to make out the shapes around him. "Murphy?" he questioned again, his tone becoming laced with concern.

"Nope, try again."

A voice in Connor's ear caused him to flinch and jerk away in surprise and he noticed for the first time that he couldn't move his arms or his legs. Craning his head around, he tried to catch a glimpse of the man who had spoken to him but the ache in his head stilled his efforts. As he became more alert, his vision cleared and he was able to get a better look at his surroundings. He was seated in a cold steel chair in the middle of, what appeared to be, one of the prisoner's educational rooms. The inky blackness beyond the barred windows told him that night had fallen, suggesting he had been out of it for a couple of hours at least. Struggling weakly, he tested his restraints, and felt the harsh metal of handcuffs digging into the soft flesh around his wrists. His ankles were fastened in a similar fashion to the legs of the chair he was seated on.

"We've been waiting for you to wake up, Saint." The voice came again, tainted with obvious disdain, and Connor felt certain that he recognized the cadence of speech, although he couldn't place it in his still fuzzy memory. "Your brother has been worried about you. Which, if you ask me, is rather foolish of him; you are in much better shape than he is at the moment."

Connor's heart pounded in his chest at the mention of Murphy and he lashed out in rage at the implication of the statement. "Ya fuckin' coward, where the fuck is he?!" he demanded, trying again to twist around and get a look at the man behind him.

A firm set of hands clamped down on Connor's shoulders and his chair was forcefully spun around until he had a clear view of the other side of the small room. The scene that greeted him sparked a fury in his heart of unparalleled proportion.

Murphy and Romeo were seated next to each other, both restrained to separate chairs in the same manner that Connor was. Romeo looked as if he had taken quite a beating, with blood flowing from a spot on his brow and one eye that was swollen partially shut. The man looked up at Connor before glancing worriedly over at Murphy who appeared to have taken the brunt of their captor's displeasure and was hunched over in his chair, blood covering one whole side of his head, eyes glazed in pain.

Connor was more than a little alarmed by his brother's seemingly weak and damaged state and he felt his ire raise another notch. "Ya guys alright?" he asked in a low voice, anger bleeding into his tone.

Murphy snapped his eyes up to meet his brother's and Connor was relieved to see the usual spark of resilience in their depths. Any response that his twin might have formed was cut off as the voice behind him continued speaking.

"Do they fucking look alright to you?" The question was followed by a hollow laugh as the mystery voice finally revealed itself, stepping around the chair into his captive's line of sight.

Connor looked up into the slightly bruised face of George Maddox and narrowed his eyes in contempt. It wasn't surprising to learn that the other convict was behind this. He had known the other man was going to be a problem from the first moment he saw him eyeballing Murphy.

"Although," Maddox continued, "it's no less than what you crazy, fucking Jesus freaks, deserve." He gave the chair a kick with a look of disgust on his face.

Connor gave a humorless laugh and shook his head at the ridiculousness of the statement. "What we deserve? That's a funny thing to say, comin' from a murderer of the innocent. Tell me, what do YOU deserve? Do ya really fuckin' believe that ya deserve to continue livin' and breathin' after all the pain you have caused in your life? The families of the people you have killed and raped, don't they deserve their justice?"

Connor's rant was interrupted as Maddox's heavy fist connected solidly with his face once, then twice. "I am paying for my crimes, you Irish piece of shit!" Grabbing a handful of the man's hair he pulled his head up and dropped down eye level with him. "I get to spend the rest of my life in this fucking shit hole. Life without parole." Maddox gave his captive a vicious shake before releasing his hold and standing back up to his full height. "I am paying for my fucking crimes and it is time someone made you pay for yours." Without warning, he hauled off and punched Connor in the head again, landing several blows before targeting his exposed chest and abdomen.

On the other side of the room Murphy was using what little strength he had left cursing and fighting his restraints, his brother's pained groans fueling his struggle. This entire situation brought back the still raw memories of the night they lost Rocco. The handcuffs. The chairs. The pain. The fear. It was that last one that motivated Murphy to push through the darkness at the edges of his vision and continue fighting despite the pull on his injured body.

Romeo felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness as he sat, looking back and forth between the two brothers. He was torn between trying to calm Murphy down, and joining him in cursing at the man who was still slowly but deliberately working Connor over. After seeing the damage that Murphy was inflicting upon himself by struggling against the handcuffs, Romeo decided that talking his friend down was more important than putting up a useless fight against the metal and steel holding them down.

"Murph. Murphy! You're hurting yourself, man. This isn't helping." His attempts went unheeded as his friend continued to rage in the seat next to him. Every hit that Connor took only increased Murphy's intensity until he managed to scoot his chair several feet from its original spot, nearly tipping himself over in the process.

Geno, who had been patiently waiting for his turn to join the fun, stepped away from his spot along the perimeter of the room and strode over to where Murphy was still fighting like a wild animal.

Romeo eyed the large Italian man walking their way and, by the way he was glaring at Murphy, it wasn't hard to guess his intentions. Turning back to his friend he tried desperately to get through to him once more. "Murphy! Look at me, man! Calm down and look at me!" But it was to no avail.

Murphy was far too stubborn to stop fighting, no matter how hopeless or pointless the situation seemed, especially when it was his brother on the line. Every time the sound of knuckles meeting flesh resounded off the concrete walls, Murphy felt the fire of his fury grow inside his soul. They may not know it yet, but these motherfuckers all just made themselves dead men.

So intent was he on trying to stop what was happening on the other side of the room, Murphy didn't notice that someone had come up behind him until Geno's meaty arm snaked around his chest and neck, pulling him tightly against him.

Dropping his mouth down low to Murphy's ear, Geno spoke quietly, his thick Italian accent blending with his mocking tone. "Shhhhh Shhhhh. Relax. Relax. Conserve your energy. This show is just getting started."

Murphy refused to acknowledge the fear that was trying to take hold of him. Denying the paralyzing emotion, he shoved it down deep and allowed all of his rage to flood in and take its place. "Fuck you!" he spat out, fighting against the strong arms holding him down.

Geno gritted his teeth as he attempted to control the struggling man. "You really are a fiery one, aren't you?"

Murphy brought his chin down to his chest, intending to show the Italian man just how feisty he could be, he threw his head back in one fluid motion and heard the satisfying crunch of Geno's nose as it connected with the back of his skull.

Geno's hands flew to his face as he stumbled backwards, howling in pain. "You motherfucker!"

The injured convict stepped out in front of him and Murphy flashed a smug grin when he saw the blood pouring from the infuriated man's nose.

Swiping at the blood, Geno gingerly prodded his already swollen and bruised nose before turning a lethal glare onto Murphy. "You are going to pay for that you mick fuck. You better start praying to that God of yours, boy, because that was the last thing you will ever do!"

On the outside Murphy remained the picture of calm as he forced the smirk to remain plastered across his face, but on the inside, his blood ran cold. His body had already taken more abuse than he felt it could handle and he was silently dreading the beating that was to come.

Geno brought his fist back and, throwing his entire body into the punch, he landed his knuckles squarely into the side of Murphy's head. The hit was so powerful it rocked the chair, as well as the man chained to it, backwards, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Bright colorful spots burst in front of Murphy's vision and he was vaguely aware of a brief feeling of weightlessness before landing in a tangled heap right at Romeo's feet.

"Shit! Murphy!" Romeo cringed inwardly when his friend hit the ground in front of him and he could tell by the way the man lay stunned, trying to blink his vision clear, that he was in bad shape. Geno stepped up to Murphy's side and Romeo arched against his restraints, failing in his attempt to kick out at the ex-mobster. "Get the fuck away from him, _pendejo!_"

Geno paid no mind to the other prisoner, his anger focused completely on the bleeding man on the ground. Grabbing Murphy by the front of his prison uniform, he punched him in the face again before standing back up and delivering a swift kick to his abdomen.

Murphy felt like he was on the verge of blacking out until Geno's foot connected with his ribcage and he felt something snap. The searing pain that exploded across his midsection pulled him back from the darkness as his cries echoed off the walls in the small room.

Maddox landed a final punch to Connor's stomach when he heard the sound of Murphy crying out. Leaving Connor slumped over in his chair, he turned to face the commotion on the other side of the room. "Geno, what in the hell are you doing over there? I told you that I would give you your chance with them, but it is not your turn yet!"

Geno stopped with his leg in mid-swing and spun to face an annoyed Maddox. "The bastard broke my fucking nose!"

"I don't give a shit about your nose! You don't get them until I'm done. That was the deal!" Maddox took a few steps closer, challenging the other man to defy him.

The two convicts stared each other down in a silent struggle for power until Geno finally backed down and averted his eyes. "Well, I'm not going to wait much longer so you better finish your fucking business, quick." He gave Murphy's heaving form another light kick, eliciting a groan from the injured man.

Maddox continued to glare at the large Italian, "I will finish when I am good and fucking ready, and you will wait for as long as I tell you to."

Geno mumbled something under his breath but didn't push the issue any further as he, none too gently, grabbed Murphy's arms and hauled his chair back into an upright position.

Connor was grateful when Maddox's fist finally stopped viciously pounding his already sore body and he was given an opportunity to catch his breath. As soon as he felt the man step away, he hunched over in his chair and tried to relax his spasming muscles. His entire body felt like it was on fire and he could feel the warm stickiness of his blood as it trickled down his face. Attempting to get his diaphragm to work properly, he took a deep breath and tried to supply his body with the oxygen it was desperately lacking. After a few moments of deep breathing his head began to clear and he looked up through squinted eyes.

He was slightly surprised when he noticed Geno Pisani's presence among them, although, the discovery wasn't too terribly shocking. He knew that ex-mobster was probably holding one hell of a grudge for the beating he took a few weeks past, and after witnessing the conversation between him and Maddox in the cafeteria, he could have guessed they would join forces in their mutual hatred of the Saints.

Connor tried to focus his mind on what the two men were saying and he came to the realization they were arguing over something. Geno gestured angrily to a heap on the ground at his feet and Connor lowered his gaze, trying to get a look at what exactly they were arguing over. It took his pain-dulled mind a few moments to process that the tangled heap on the floor was Murphy and the two convicts were fighting over him like he was no more than a scrap of meat. Connor felt his fury flood back full force as the two men settled their dispute and Geno pulled his twin back into a sitting position. Murphy looked horrible. His brother was ghostly pale and the contrast of the bright red blood seeping out from the corners of his mouth, against the unnatural pallor of his skin, caused Connors stomach to churn. These men were going to fucking pay dearly for this.

Maddox, satisfied that his orders were being obeyed, turned back to see Connor glaring daggers at him. "If you still have the energy to give me a look like that, Saint, then I still have a lot of work to do." Bringing his fist down he let his knuckles slam into Connor's jaw, rocking the man's head back.

Connor tried to lift his head and offer up another defiant gesture, but the simple act turned out to be too much for his abused body, as the room spun around him and his head lolled forward.

Maddox bent down so he was eye level with the man in front of him and ducked his head, trying to catch a glimpse into his prisoner's eyes. When Connor proved unable to lift his own head and meet his gaze, Maddox did the job for him, threading his fingers through his hair and yanking his head back. Taking note of the unfocused and dilated state of the man's eyes, he shook his head in genuine pity. "You know, it didn't have to be this way. I tried to offer your brother a way out. You could have served your time in peace under the safety of my protection. But you just can't seem to let go of this idea that you are somehow better than me. For some reason, you believe it is your place to play judge and jury; that your crimes are somehow justified. Well, that is bullshit and I want you to know that I see you for who you really are. Natural killers. I have been around enough of them in my day to recognize the type when I see them, and you and your brother both bear that dark mark upon your soul. The unquenchable need for blood." Maddox removed his hand from Connor's hair, leaving him with the task of keeping it held upright, but maintained his eye level crouch. "You boys hide behind your religion thinking that it can justify your need to take lives. Hoping it will disguise the real reason why you do what you do. Bravo! It is a mighty fine act and it has half the population in this damned city fooled. But not me."

Connor's breathing hitched as a laugh caught in his dry throat. "Ya really have no fuckin' clue what you're talkin' about."

Maddox sighed in frustration. "You don't have to be ashamed of it. Hell, it's probably not even your fault. Stuff like this, it's in the breeding. Let me guess, you have a strong family history of violence."

Connor's eyes narrowed at the slight against his family and the simple gesture told Maddox he was on the right track.

"An uncle, or a grandfather, perhaps? Or, maybe it was your daddy himself?" Maddox didn't miss the small flash of anger when he made mention of the other man's father, and he ran with it. "Your father then, huh? Spill a lot of blood, did he? See, it's like I said. These things, they run in the family. Tell me, did good ol' dad also try to reconcile his murderous tendencies by proclaiming it was the work of god?" Maddox ducked his head again and looked into Connor's eyes, making it clear that he expected an answer this time.

Connor kept his mouth shut, refusing to play into this bastard's mind games.

"Answer me," he demanded. When Connor continued to ignore the question, Maddox gave a deep, irritated sigh. "Why does everything have to be so difficult with you micks?" Leaning in closer he spoke in a low, dangerous voice. "Answer my fucking question or I will go have some more fun with your brother and spic friend over there while you rethink this silent treatment."

Connor shot a quick glance over Maddox's shoulder, making eye contact first with Murphy, then Romeo. His twin was still horribly pale and his breathing labored, it was painfully obvious that his brother's body could handle no more abuse. Gritting his teeth, Connor redirected his attention back to Maddox.

"Our father heard the calling, the same as us. However, the only people who had reason to fear him were people like yourself. People, who threaten, rape and steal the lives of the blameless. The scum of the Earth." Connor spat the insult in Maddox's face boldly. "Our father gave up his home, his family, and his freedom, dedicatin' his life to protectin' the innocent, and my brother and I are proud to follow in his footsteps. If that makes us 'natural killers' then so be it, but you and I, we're not the same."

For several long, breathless moments, Maddox remained perfectly still as he read the conviction behind Connor's words. In the span of a second, the convict's face contorted into a mask of rage and he landed his fist heavily into Connor's midsection, leaving the man gasping for air. "If that is what you believe then you are lying to yourself, Saint!" Maddox yelled in his face before punching him again.

On the other side of the room, Murphy, despite his ongoing sturggle to breath, picked up where he left off in shouting obscenities at the man beating his brother. "Motherfucker! Fucking coward piece of shit." His curses broke off as he fell into a vicious coughing fit, but he didn't give up in his fight.

At the sound of Murphy's voice, Maddox stopped mid-swing and turned to face his other two captives. His anger slipped away and his expression turned thoughtful as he glanced back and forth between the three prisoners. Almost as if a light bulb had been turned on in his brain, his eyes lit up and a cruel smile split his face. Turning back to Connor, Maddox grabbed the arms of the steel chair and pulled him over so he was sitting directly across from Murphy and Romeo.

Connor was aware of Maddox walking away as he talked quietly to one of his fellow conspirators, but his focus remained on his brother and friend in front of him. Romeo didn't seem to be any worse off than he had been earlier, however, Murphy looked like pure hell. Connor's eyes roved over his brother's body, appraising his condition, and the sight of his twin's many injuries stoked the already smoldering embers in his heart.

He stopped his assessment when he felt Murphy's gaze on him and, looking up, he latched onto the blue eyes that were so similar to his own. They didn't waste their energy or breath exchanging comforting words or useless platitudes. Everything they needed to say was communicated through the silent connection they had developed over a lifetime of constantly being by each other's side. Connor read the disquiet in his twins eyes as clearly as if he had spoken aloud. _This situation is fucked and we don't have much longer here. _Connor nodded, and felt an acute sense of helplessness flood through him. He had no answers this time. No elaborate and genius plan on how to get them out of this impossible situation. He could feel the weight of both Romeo and Murphy looking to him for answers, but he had nothing, and his self-perceived failure was tearing at him.

The sound of a door scraping open and slightly muffled voices on the far side of the room caused all three of their heads to snap up simultaneously as they sought out the source of the disturbance. Connor could see Maddox standing at the door of the small room, arguing with someone out in the hallway, and could only just make out what the man was saying.

"I don't care. The plans have changed and I need him now."

The person in the hall responded but he couldn't quite catch the faint words. Maddox gave a nod and stood waiting at the door for several long moments before the ragged form of a man was shoved forcefully through the opening, tripping and landing hard on his side as he entered.

Connor and Murphy shared a confused glance before turning back and watching as Maddox grabbed the newcomer by the handcuffs that were restraining him and hauled him to his feet. They could tell by his clothing that this man was a prison guard, but it wasn't until Maddox drug him over and pushed him into an empty chair next to Romeo, that they were able to recognize him as Officer Jones.

The guard was battered and bruised and appeared genuinely surprised at finding the Saints in their current situation. The same shock was mirrored on Connor and Murphy's faces and they were slightly disturbed by the new direction this was taking.

"Are we ready to have some fun?" Maddox's loud voice rang out, leaving them little time to ponder this new turn of events. Snapping his fingers, he motioned to someone out of their line of sight and, after a short moment, Geno appeared carrying one of the liberated rifles, moving to stand behind Murphy, Romeo and Officer Jones.

Maddox didn't miss the uneasy expression that took over Connor's face, and he grinned down at him. "Don't look so worried. We're just going to play a little game." Chuckling, he moved so he was standing next to Geno, allowing him a clear view of his brother and friend. "Since you seem to believe that having your hands free from the blood of the innocent is what sets you apart from every other killer, I am going to show you that, despite your divine proclamations, deep down, you are nothing more than a cold blooded murderer. I think that when it comes down to the life of someone you love," he rested a hand on Murphy's shoulder, "you would do whatever it takes and kill whomever you have to, innocent or not. Say for instance," Maddox stepped over to Jones, dropping his hands down on either shoulder, " good ol' Officer Jones, here. Hardly the kindest amongst the prison staff, but innocent enough I suppose. If you had to choose between his life and the life of your brother, would you really be willing to sacrifice your own flesh and blood for this man? This man who, I swear, the sole purpose of his existence is to make the life of every con in this place as miserable as possible?"

The more Maddox spoke the colder the knot in the pit of Connor's stomach became. He didn't, at all, like the direction this was headed and his mind began working furiously on how to diffuse the situation. "What do ya want? Ya want to hear me admit to my crimes? Admit that I feel no remorse for the people that I have killed? Because you're right, I don't. I haven't lost any sleep over the lives that I have taken, and there was no hesitation when I pulled the trigger. If these are the things that make me a murderer, then I guess I'm a regular natural born killer, and I deserve to be in this place as much as you do." Connor ignored the amused expression spreading across Maddox's face and pressed on with his desperate confession. "You're absolutely right, if it came down to Murphy's life or the life of anyone else on this planet, I would choose my brother every time, and I would do so without hesitation." He was bluffing. He knew that, even if he made the choice to put his twin before the life of an innocent person, Murphy would never allow such a thing to happen. It went completely against what they stood for, and he hoped beyond hope that Maddox would accept his admission and move on. It was wishful thinking.

Letting loose a hearty laugh, Maddox gave his head a shake and walked back over to Connor's side, kneeling down so he could meet his eyes. "I am glad you finally set aside your denial," his tone suggested he knew otherwise, "it will make this next part easier for you." Straightening back up he moved so he was standing behind Connor's chair and bent down just enough so his mouth was next to the other man's ear. "You have a choice to make tonight, Saint. The inmates won't be able to hold this prison for long, we may have control now but I would be willing to bet that, come dawn, the tables will have turned. From what my men tell me, the National Guard have already set up a perimeter around the facility, and, I am sure, the state police have already been dispatched and are on location. It is only a matter of time until they work out a plan of action and take back the prison. So, the question you need to ask yourself is, do you want your brother and friend to still be alive when that sun comes up, or do you want to face the new dawn alone?"

Connor looked up, making eye contact first with Romeo, then Murphy. He didn't respond to Maddox's question, didn't want to play this fucker's games, instead he kept his gaze focused on his brother and prayed to the God they had devoted their lives to, that He would see them through this.

"Geno would you be so kind as to use that rifle there, and target this man's beloved brother."

Maddox's voice broke through his prayers and Connor glanced up, enraged, as Geno stepped in front of his twin, the weapon trained on Murphy's head, directly between the eyes.

"You can all walk out of this alive. You, your piece of shit brother and your Mexican, can all live to see another day, but you have to be willing to sacrifice this innocent man for your happy ending. You said yourself that killing for your family is never a problem, so prove it. I'm not even going to make you pull the trigger, just say the word and Geno here, will do the dirty work."

"You can go to hell, I won't be playin' your sick fuckin' games." Connor had spoken to Maddox but he found he couldn't take his eyes off of Murphy, who was glaring bravely through narrowed eyes up the barrel at the man targeting him.

"Come on now, you're smart enough to know that won't work." Maddox stood and moved out front so Connor could see him again. "If you refuse to play my game, then I will make up the ending myself. If you don't make a choice, the first to go will be your spic sidekick." He kicked out dispassionately at Romeo's chair. "The second to go will be your brother, although," he took a moment and assessed the way Murphy's breathing had gone from slow and labored, to wheezing with sporadic coughing, "it doesn't look like he will make it much longer anyway. Then, after they are dead, I will go ahead and kill the good Officer anyway." Turning, he leered at the guard. "Sucks to be you, Jonsey, either way, you're fucked."

Connor began to panic as his options narrowed. He shot another desperate glance at his brother before fixing stormy blue eyes on the cruel man in front of him. "Alright then, if I have to make a choice, I choose myself."

Murphy's eyes went wide and his head snapped in his Connor's direction. "Ní gá duit fucking leomh, Connor! /Don't you fucking dare, Connor!/"

The words had been spoken in Gaelic for Connor's ears alone, but he refused to look Murphy in the eye, instead keeping his focus on Maddox, silently willing the man to accept his offer.

Maddox looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I have no intention of killing you. Whatever decision you make here tonight, you have to live with it. Watching you torture yourself for the rest of your sentence is going to be half the fun!" He bumped Geno with his elbow and the two convicts shared a chuckle. "Now, enough stalling, time to choose, Saint. If you haven't reached a decision by the time I count to ten, your amigo here gets a bullet."

Connor was at a complete loss, how could anyone expect him to make a decision like this. It was impossible.

"One."

He looked to Officer Jones. The man looked terrified. The guard had never been particularly friendly to them but, hell, he worked in a prison surrounded by violent criminals. Who wouldn't develop a chip on their shoulder after years spent working under these conditions?

"Two."

Damn it! Jones didn't deserve to die, and Connor knew he couldn't sentence an innocent man to his death for the amusement of these sick bastards. So where did that leave him?

"Three."

His eyes darted frantically over to Romeo who was watching him closely with wide eyes. He looked scared but was doing a decent job of masking it with a commendable show of bravery. The man had been fiercely loyal to the Saints and their mission and Connor couldn't let his friend die like this. It would be Rocco all over again and the guilt would be too much.

"Four."

"What the fuck do you want from me?! You can't just expect me to make a choice like this!" Connor fought his restraints in a moment of hysteria.

"Five."

Chest heaving, he glanced over at his brother who was starting to put up a fight of his own. Geno had removed the tip of the rifle from Murphy's forehead and repositioned it above Romeo's heart, preparing to take his shot.

"Six."

Connor latched eyes with his twin and held on like it was his lifeline. "Níl a fhios agam cad atá le déanamh, Murph! Cad a dhéanfaidh mé? /I don't know what to do, Murph! What do I do?/

"Seven."

The defeated slump of his brother's shoulders and the devastated look on his face broke Murphy's heart. "Níl rud ar bith is féidir leat a dhéanamh. Níl sé do locht, Connor. An bhfuil tú ag éisteacht liom? /There is nothing you can do. It's not your fault, Connor. Do you hear me?/

"Eight."

Connor felt the prickle of tears behind his eyes but denied the emotion; instead he turned his feelings of hopelessness into a desperate show of rage. Ignoring his screaming injuries and his bloodied wrists he kicked out and cursed at an unfazed Maddox.

"Nine."

Spots danced before his eyes and he had no energy left to fight. He was exhausted and despair had set in like a heavy cloud upon his shoulders. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Ten."

The sound of gunfire echoing off the walls in the small room was deafening.

**A/N:_ I know, I know, another cliffhanger. I don't know what's wrong with me, just please be patient._**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

For as long as he lived, Connor would never forget the wide-eyed, shocked expression on his friends face as he stared down at the hole in his chest. It was an image that would haunt his dreams for years to come. The guilt flowed from his conscience as freely as the blood pouring from Romeo's body, and he knew that he could never forgive himself for this. How could he have let this happen? He should have made the choice that would have kept them all alive and begged God for forgiveness later. But he couldn't do that.

"No. Rome, I'm sorry. Please, I'm so sorry!" His voice sounded small in his ringing ears and he was aware of the tears rolling down his face.

Looking up, Romeo met Connor's eyes and shook his head; he didn't want his friends to torture themselves over this. The time he had spent with the MacManus brothers had been the most rewarding and fulfilling time of his life and he wouldn't trade it for anything. He needed them to know that but, when he opened his mouth to speak, the only thing that came out was more blood.

Murphy had watched in silent shock as the bullet entered Romeo's chest, but seeing his friend struggle to speak was the last straw for him and he snapped. Alternating between coughing and screaming, he cursed Maddox and Geno in every language he knew, and it wasn't until Romeo took his last rasping breath, that he went quiet, his shoulder's shaking with silent sobs.

"Well, that was fun! Who's up next?" Maddox looked back at Connor's defeated form as he directed Geno to move on to Murphy who didn't even bother looking up at the rifle aimed at him. "Are you still sure this is the choice you want to make, Saint?" he raised an eyebrow in question.

Glancing over at Jones, Connor wished he could make the call that would spare the life of his twin, his best friend, but he couldn't. When he didn't respond Maddox gave Geno a nod and Connor turned grief stricken eyes onto Murphy.

The brother's didn't speak, they didn't need to, they just met eyes briefly before simultaneously bowing their heads and picking up a prayer in their favored language, Gaelic.

Geno tensed, preparing to squeeze the trigger, and the gunshot that followed tore a hole through Connor's soul so deep that he knew it would never heal. He had been unable to save the person who meant more to him than anything in the entire world, and he would never be whole again.

"What in the hell?" Maddox's confused voice caused Connor to snap his head up and when he saw Murphy, alive and whole, staring back at him, he moved his gaze to Geno who was looking down in shock at the gaping hole in his chest. The Italian man stumbled backwards a few steps before crashing to the ground, unmoving.

Maddox spun toward the door and the source of the unexpected gunfire, when a new voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Make one more move, George, and I will drop you quicker than you can blink."

Connor squinted his eyes at the young man who was standing on the far side of the room with a 9mm glock aimed directly at Maddox's head. Although the man was dressed in an inmate uniform, he could have sworn that he recognized him as one of the prison guards.

"Get down on the floor, hands behind your head." Motioning toward the ground, the newcomer took a few tentative steps forward while keeping his weapon expertly trained on the convict.

Maddox looked furious at having his plans interrupted and he considered the man in front of him with cold eyes.

"Down on the ground!" he ordered again as he adjusted his grip, preparing to fire.

Looking around the small room, Maddox appeared to be weighing his options. For a moment it looked as if he were going to surrender as he raised his blood stained hands in the air and dropped to one knee, but as soon as the younger man started moving toward him, he jumped to his feet and made a dash for the second exit at the front of the classroom.

The newcomer reacted without hesitation, taking a second to adjust his aim before firing off a quick shot. Maddox stumbled as the bullet lodged itself in his leg, just above the knee, but the fleeing convict didn't stop and, throwing open the door, he disappeared through the opening.

"Damn it!" the young man cursed under his breath as he lowered his gun.

Officer Jones shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and confusion. "Edwards, what in the hell are you doing here? All of the guards who were able were supposed to fall back and join the team outside the facility."

Turning back to the remaining captives, he gave Romeo's still body a sad glance as he passed by on his way to Murphy's side. "We all know what started this uprising. They wanted the Saints, and I wasn't going to just leave these men to the wolves like that." Edwards didn't offer any more explanation as he turned his focus completely on to Murphy. "Are you okay?" he asked softly as he dug through his pocket and produced a large ring of different sized keys.

Murphy wasn't sure how to answer that question and he gave a quiet grunt that failed to indicate one way or the other. Nothing felt all right. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this bad off. He could feel his body failing him fast, and Romeo was… he was gone. No, nothing was okay.

Edwards gave the man a sympathetic look and took in the mixture of tears and blood that covered his face. He laid a gentle hand on Murphy's shoulder before bending down and flipping through his ring of keys. Selecting the small silver handcuff key, he inserted it into the cuff around the Irishman's left wrist and let the restraint fall away before starting on the other side.

Once Murphy was free, Edwards grabbed the man's arm and, putting it around his shoulders, he slowly pulled him to his feet. "You got it?" The young guard was concerned by how weak and unstable the prisoner felt but he had to get started on releasing the others, they needed to move quickly before anyone else found them or Maddox came back with reinforcements.

"Aye…" Murphy tried to respond but his voice broke off into another coughing fit and he nodded around the spasms.

Edwards waited until the coughs had subsided and the wounded man had his balance before moving on to the lighter-haired twin.

Connor regarded the man in front of him curiously. He had watched and was surprised by the gentle kindness this stranger had shown his brother as he un-cuffed him and kept him steady on his feet. Most guards didn't give two shits about the inmates and he didn't understand why this one had risked everything to help them. "Why are ya doin' this?" His voice was raspy from yelling and he attempted to clear his throat. "Why would ya come back in here and endanger your life for us?"

Edwards looked up from where he was busy unlocking the cuffs around Connor's ankles and met his eyes with a steady gaze. "You don't deserve any of this. I suppose I could have just walked away and looked to my own safety, but I owe you more than that. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I left you to the mercy of these men."

Connor was confused. "And why exactly do you feel you owe us anythin'?"

Edwards dropped his gaze and returned his focus to the task at hand. "I have my reasons."

The response was so quiet Connor almost didn't catch it, but he decided this mystery was best left for later and didn't push it any further. "Well, whatever your reasons, thank ya."

The last of the restraints fell free with a clink, and Edwards gained his feet. "You don't have to thank me. Can you stand?" He held his arms out, ready to help the other man out of the chair.

Leaning heavily on the young officer's shoulder, Connor accepted the help and stood stiffly to his feet. After taking a few moments to steady himself, he mustered his strength and headed over to where his brother was standing over Romeo's body. When he reached his twin's side he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze, causing him to look up and meet his eyes. The unshed tears that Connor saw shining in their blue depths tugged at his conscience and served as a reminder of how horribly he had failed them.

"Here, see to your friend." The brothers both turned to see Edwards offering up the ring of keys.

"You should help him first." Connor nodded in Jones's direction.

The young man narrowed his eyes at his superior officer who, in turn, lowered his gaze to the floor. Turning back to the two men he proffered the keys again. "He can wait."

Murphy accepted them without hesitation and, with the utmost tenderness, he began freeing his friend's bruised wrists from the harsh metal. Once he had them all unlocked he passed the keys back to Edwards and together he and Connor lay Romeo's body out gently on the floor. The weight proved to be too much for Murphy's injured body and he groaned in pain as he collapsed to his hands and knees, unable to catch his breath.

"Christ Murphy, let me take a look at ya." Connor attempted to press his brother back so he could check him over but he shoved him lightly away.

"Not yet," he protested around wheezing breaths, "we need to pray first." He nodded his head toward Romeo and crawled past twin to his friend's side.

"Aye." Connor relented with a nod, his response merely a whisper.

The brother's knelt on either side of Romeo's body and Murphy brushed his hand down the man's pale face, closing his eyes, as Connor crossed his limp arms across his chest.

Edwards listened curiously from where he was unlocking Jones's handcuffs to the prayer the Saints were reciting, and he found himself fascinated with the strange language they were speaking in perfect unison with each other.

When they were done, Connor and Murphy both crossed themselves before each planting a gentle kiss to their friend's forehead.

Connor's shoulders shook softly as another tear escaped his eyes and rolled down his face. "I'm so sorry Rome. Please forgive me."

Murphy felt his heart break at the sound of his brother's guilt-driven grief and, looking up, he gripped his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. "This isn't your fuckin' fault, Connor. Don't ya dare start blamin' yourself for this, ya know he wouldn't want ya to do that."

Connor shook his head, clearly not ready to let himself off the hook so easily. "It was my fuckin' choice, Murph. I might as well have pulled the fuckin' trigger myself."

Murphy moved his hand from his twin's shoulder to the side of his face forcing him to look at him, willing him to accept his words. "There _was_ no fuckin' choice! You did the only thing you could do and it's not your fault." His eyes hardened and he dropped his hand back to Rome's chest, covering the bullet hole. "It's not your fault," he repeated quietly. "That mantle of guilt belongs to someone else." Raising his eyes back up to capture his twin's the two men held a silent conversation only they were privy to.

After several long moments they both dropped their gazes, nodding in agreement. Giving Romeo's chest one last pat, they stood to their feet and strode purposefully over to where Geno's body lay sprawled on the floor. Bending down, Connor snagged the rifle from where the man had dropped it and followed Murphy toward the exit.

Edwards looked up from where he was finishing up with Jones and watched in surprise as Connor and Murphy headed toward the door. "Wait, where are you going?" He stood to his feet and hurried after them, stopping Connor with a hand on his shoulder. The cold, dangerous look in the other man's eyes when he turned to face him caused him to falter and take a step back.

"We're goin' to finish this." He turned to continue toward the door but Edwards stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"Please, you can't do that." He held his hands out in a placative manner, begging them to understand. "We are running out of time and I need you to come with me. You have to let him go."

Murphy walked back to his twin's side, and rested heavily on his shoulder for support. "The only person who is runnin' out of time is that murderin' piece of shit. There is no way in hell we are letting him go."

Edwards didn't miss the way Murphy swayed on his feet or how he kept a protective armed curled around his injured ribs. "Look at you, you can hardly stand let alone go wandering through a prison full of riotous inmates who all want you dead." He noticed the determined set of the man's clenched jaw and softened his approach. "Please, come with me, I can help you."

Connor gave his head a shake. "You've helped us enough and we appreciate what you've done, but there is no force on this Earth that is going to keep that man from his date with justice."

The young guard looked back and forth between the two brothers before relenting with a sigh. "Fine, I guess I'll just have to go with you then."

Murphy exchanged a glance with his twin. "That's not smart. You should take officer Jones, here, and try to find a way out. Guards are going to be targeted just as much as we are and it's not safe."

Edwards shrugged as he checked the ammo left in his clip. "I'm aware of that. I ditched my uniform for a reason and I will be able to blend in better than you two will." Slamming the clip back into the gun, he stared hard at the brothers, daring them to argue.

"You can't go with them." All three men turned to stare at officer Jones who was walking up to the group, rubbing the stiffness out of his arms and shoulders. "You have already broken protocol coming in here like this, you will be lucky if you still have a job after tonight. If you want to salvage what is left of your career, then you must fall back to the perimeter of the facility with me." Edwards opened his mouth to argue but Jones cut him off. "I realize I am in no position to tell these two men what to do but, when we restore order to this prison, they will be held accountable for any crimes they may have committed during this riot, as will you if you go through with this. Don't throw your life away by associating with them."

Edwards felt a stab of anger at the man's calloused words and for once he didn't back down to the superior officer. "I saved your life! Hell, _they_ saved your life! If I had followed protocol you would be dead right now, and all you can do is threaten to fire me?" The young man took a deep breath and calmed himself down before continuing in a quieter voice. "I'm going with them, and if you have to fire me, then I think I can live with that."

Jones was taken aback by the outburst and he stood and stared for a moment before shaking his head and walking away, muttering something about _dumb kid _and _stupid mistake_.

Edwards watched as his the other man made his way to the back exit and slipped quietly through the door before turning back to the brothers, raising an eyebrow in question. "Shall we?"

Connor gave a sigh and shook his head at the young man's stubbornness. "Aye, you've obviously made your decision and I'm not goin' to waste anymore time tryin' to talk ya out of it." He turned back to Murphy who was still supporting himself on his shoulder, panting heavily, and his expression turned serious. His twin's condition seemed to be worsening the more he moved around and that had him concerned.

Murphy, aware of his brother's careful scrutiny, released his grip and pushed away from his shoulder, attempting to stand on his own. "Don't fuckin' look at me like that, Connor, you've got worry written all over you're fuckin' face. I'm gonna be fine, let's do this."

Connor wasn't going to let him off that easily. "Ya at least need to let me have a look ya."

Murphy shook his head and started for the door again. "We don't have time for this shit, I'm fuckin' fine." The statement was followed by a series of forceful coughs that made him double over, clutching his chest.

"Oh aye, obviously, Macho Murph." He rolled his eyes as he stepped back up to his brother's side and grabbed him by the elbow. "You're not goin' anywhere till ya let me see."

Murphy straightened back up and glared at him for a moment before relenting with an annoyed sigh. With shaking fingers he began unbuttoning the front of his prison uniform. "Whatever ya say, Ma."

Normally such a statement would have earned his twin a smack upside the head, but Connor restrained himself and waited patiently for Murphy to finish fumbling with the buttons. Once the shirt was hanging loose, he pulled it back to get a better look. "Jesus." The word came out a mere whisper as he took in the deep purple-black bruise that covered the entire length of his brother's ribs.

Edwards had been standing back, giving the brother's their space, but when he caught sight of the injury, he sucked in his breath and stepped up to assist. Placing a hand on Connor's arm he shot Murphy a questioning glance. "May I?"

Murphy considered him a moment before nodding and Connor backed away, allowing the young man access to his brother.

Very gently, Edwards reached a hand out and ran his fingertips along the bruise; applying soft pressure he tested each bone for breaks. Murphy groaned and bit his lip in response to the guard's light touch on one of the offending ribs and Edwards withdrew his hand. "Well, I counted at least two broken ribs, possibly more. They are most likely jabbing inward, putting pressure on your lung, which is why you are having trouble breathing. That cough could be a possible sign of a puncture but without any kind of medical equipment it is impossible to tell."

Connor stepped around to Murphy's other side and cocked an eyebrow. "So what, you're a doctor now as well as a prison guard?"

Edwards gave a small smile. "No, not a doctor; I was training to be an EMT before I decided to make a career change."

"Interesting career change." Connor eyed the young man who just shrugged and turned his focus back to Murphy.

"Lung injuries are nothing to mess around with, especially since we don't know the extent of the injury. Any further damage could result in serious complications."

Murphy nodded in understanding as he buttoned his shirt back up and turned to his brother. "There you got to see it, happy now?"

Connor wasn't as willing to brush off the seriousness of the injury as his brother was and he frowned. "No, not really. Murph…" he hesitated knowing how his brother would react to his next words, "maybe, you should wait here, or perhaps you and Edwards should both go ahead and find a way out of here. I will be along as soon as it's done."

Murphy laughed once in disbelief before turning angry. "You're off your fuckin' nut if you think I am goin' to let ya do this alone!"

Connor held up his hands, fending off his brother's temper, he didn't want this to turn into a fight. "Please Murphy, ya can't breathe and you can barely stay upright, this may come down to a fight and you're not in any kind of shape for that."

Murphy shoved his twin away from him with as much force as he could muster. "Then don't make me waste any of my energy kickin' your fuckin ass for makin' such a stupid suggestion!"

In response to being pushed, Connor grabbed Murphy by the front of his shirt and pulled him close, his frustration getting the better of him. "Fuck you Murphy, I'm just tryin' to fuckin' look out for ya, since you seem to lack the common sense to do the job yourself!"

"Hey! This isn't going to help anything." The sound of Edwards voice caused both brothers to stop and look over at the young guard, who was coming to step in between the two men. "As foolish as it seems, I agree with him on this," he gestured to Murphy with a nod. "Neither of you are in very good shape and splitting up is not the right choice. I won't be leaving here unless it is with both of you so, if hunting Maddox down is the course you feel you must take, then I can understand that, but we need to stay together."

Connor released his brother's shirt and walked away shaking his head. "What 'the fuck' ever."

Edwards turned to Murphy and, reaching behind his back, he pulled a second glock from his waistband. "Here, you will need this."

With a grin, he accepted the proffered weapon and his fingers automatically began checking it over, making sure it was ready to go. It felt good to go through the motions and feel the familiar weight of a gun in his hand. He nodded a quick thanks to the young man before walking over to where Connor was waiting for them by the door. Murphy could feel the waves of distress radiating off his brother and he knew he needed to do something to relieve the tension between them. Throwing his arm around his twin's shoulders he pulled him in close. "We are going to find that motherfucker and kill him, along with anyone else who stands in our way, and we are going to do it the way we always have, together."

Connor glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye and gave a small half smile. "Aye, together, since your too stubborn to listen to reason." He looked back as Edwards stepped up behind them and he gave Murphy a pat on the shoulder. "All right then, let's do this."


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N:** I am super late with this update and it is a rather short chapter, I apologize for both of those things, but real life has been keeping me busy. I have already started working on the next chapter so hopefully it won't take me quite as long to get it posted. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and, as always, reviews are awesome! Feedback fuels my inspiration!_

Chapter 8

The hallways of the prison were eerily quiet and seemingly devoid of life, with the exception of the three figures that crept stealthily through the darkness. Edwards was leading the small group, using his knowledge of the prison to guide them through the maze of passages, with Murphy in the middle, focusing mainly on breathing and putting one foot in front of the other, and Connor bringing up the rear, keeping one eye on his brother's stumbling form and the other behind them, protecting their backs.

Holding up a hand, Edwards signaled for them to stop before bending down and inspecting something on the ground. "Check it out." He motioned for Connor to come forward.

Murphy remained where he was, leaning heavily against the wall, as his brother brushed passed him and stepped up beside Edwards. Kneeling down Connor focused on what had caught the young guard's eye. "Is that blood?"

Edwards nodded, "I managed to get him in the leg before he ran off and I would be willing to bet that this is his trail." He took a few steps forward, pointing out more spots as he went. "It looks like he made a turn here, heading toward the cafeteria." He pointed to a bloody handprint smeared across the wall next to them.

Connor set his jaw resolutely, "Then that is where we need to go."

Inclining his head in agreement, Edwards stood from his crouch and continued down the hall.

"Why is it so quiet?" Murphy asked through panted breaths as he pushed himself away from the wall and followed the young man around the next corner. "I expected more chaos than this, where the hell is everyone?"

Edwards glanced back briefly before returning his attention to the front. "Both A and B blocks are locked down, the inmates were unable to breach the control room for those areas, however, prisoners from both C and D were out of their cellblocks and in the main building when the riot started, which means we have approximately eighty inmates running loose around here. As for where they all are, I am not entirely sure. The last communication I had said that a large number of them had overtaken the infirmary, but that was hours ago. Honestly, I expected to meet more resistance than this."

As if on cue, loud voices rang out from behind the next corner and Edwards quickly backed them up to duck into an alcove of another doorway. Putting his finger to his lips, he requested silence from the brothers.

The voices grew louder as they drew closer and Connor tensed when he was able to make out what they were saying.

"If we find them first then I get to have my fun before we bring them back."

A second voice snorted in laughter. "Yeah right, you know Maddox would beat you senseless if you touch them before he is done."

"Why the hell are we listening to that asshole anyway?" a third voice whined. "He had his go at them and he fucked it up. Time for him to share."

"Because he owns half of the inmates in this place, he organized this whole thing, he's in charge. If you don't like it you are welcome to bring your complaints to him."

The three men passed by their hiding place, unaware of their presence, and Connor shared a look with his brother as he adjusted his grip on his rifle. Murphy read what his twin was thinking and gave him a nod before pushing off of the wall, intending to step out from the cover of the shadows and into the hall.

Edwards's hand shot out in surprise and caught Murphy by the elbow. "What are you doing?" he mouthed silently.

Murphy didn't speak as he, gently but firmly, removed the guard's hand from his arm and moved out of the recess with his brother in tow.

The three inmates continued their discussion as they walked down the hall, oblivious to the two men trailing behind them.

Nodding to Murphy, Connor signaled his brother to raise his weapon as he did the same. Once they had their aim he spoke up, giving away their position. "Ya lookin' for us?" he asked, his tone dark and taunting.

The group of convicts jumped and quickly spun to face the unknown presence behind them. They didn't have a chance to get over their surprise before the sound of gunfire echoed off the concrete walls and all three men dropped to the ground, dead. Silence fell back over the dark hallway and Connor and Murphy made eye contact, sharing a satisfied smirk.

"Holy shit." Edwards muttered the words as he stepped out from his hiding place and took in the bloody scene in front of him. He held no illusions about what the Saints intended to do once they found Maddox, he knew they were out for blood, but he had expected to rely on stealth to sneak through the prison and remain under the radar until they found him. The brother's boldness had caught him by surprise and he found that, despite being fiercely supportive of the Saints and their mission, he was unprepared for the ruthless display of violence he had just witnessed. "Jesus," he mumbled again as he ran a shaking hand through his hair and tried to steady his nerves.

Connor and Murphy turned to look at the shock written across the young man's face before exchanging glances with each other. They had seen that look before. They knew that their intense form of justice took some getting used to but they didn't have time to coddle anyone. Edwards insisted on coming with them and they had to hope he could handle it.

Bending down, Connor began crossing the arms of the dead and said a quick prayer as Murphy stepped over to Edwards and laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "It's not too late, ya can still leave."

Shaking his head, Edwards met Murphy's eyes and struggled to pull himself together. "No, I'm with you on this, you just caught me off guard is all. I'm good."

Murphy gave him a pat on the back as Connor stood from his prayer and joined them. "We need to keep moving, half of the prison probably heard those shots." As soon as the words left his mouth, the sound of shouting drifted to them from the direction they had just come from, adding a sense of urgency to the situation.

Sparing one more glance at the bodies on the ground, Edwards nodded and hurried them down the hall as quickly as they could move. They made several more turns, still following the blood trail left by an injured Maddox, before he stopped them and peered carefully around the next corner. After taking a quick look he turned back to the brothers and rested his back against the wall. "I can see the front entrance to the cafeteria and it looks like he has two armed men posted at the door. If he is in there, you can bet that he isn't alone. We need to gain the element of surprise if we are going to pull this off and still make it back out alive."

Murphy wiped at the sweat that was dripping down his pale face and quirked an eyebrow. "Great. Any ideas on how to do that?"

"What about the kitchen?" Connor asked thoughtfully. "It has a separate entrance but still leads into the cafeteria. If we can manage to sneak into the kitchen, it would provide us with enough cover that we could take out a good number of guys before they even realize we're there."

Edwards seemed to be considering the plan. "That is assuming that the kitchen is clear and you don't run into any resistance that would give away your position." He kept his voice low to avoid detection by the men around the corner.

"Aye," Connor nodded seriously and appeared to be deep in thought.

Murphy noticed the expression on his brother's face and smiled to himself. It was a look he had come to recognize over the course of their lives, and it usually meant that his twin was in the process of creating some brilliantly- stupid plan that was guaranteed to either get them in serious trouble or, by some miracle of god, actually work out in their favor.

"A distraction." Connor said after a few moments.

Edwards tilted his head. "A distraction?"

"Aye, a distraction. Somethin' to draw the attention of anyone in the cafeteria away from the kitchen long enough for us to sneak in and get positioned." The young guard nodded and Connor continued. "I want ya to go with Murph. Head for the hall entrance to the kitchen, and I will give you a couple of minutes before I-"

Murphy opened his mouth to protest but Edwards beat him to it. "No, you need to stay with your brother. I know this prison better than either of you and, after I get their attention, I will be able to navigate my way back around and come in through the kitchen, behind you."

Connor stared hard at the young man, clearly not comfortable with him taking the most dangerous position upon himself. This was his and Murphy's debt to settle and he didn't need anyone else getting hurt or killed on their behalf. His conscience couldn't take any more. "What do ya plan to do?" he asked skeptically.

"I'll think of something," he stated simply, not backing down to the other man's intense gaze.

Connor turned to look at Murphy, consulting silently with his brother for a few moments before turning back to Edwards. "Fine, but be wide and don't get yourself killed. If ya find yourself in a bad way and can't make it back to us, then leave, find a way out and get to safety. Don't ya wait for us, and don't try to come back, ya understand?"

Edwards considered him through narrowed eyes before consenting with a nod. "Understood." He, of course, had no intention of abandoning the brothers. As he had mentioned before, he wasn't leaving this place unless they were all together, but he knew that arguing was pointless and would only waste time that they didn't have.

Connor appeared satisfied. "Alright then, once it's done and that motherfucker is dead, we will need to get out as fast as possible. We don't have the strength or firepower to face down eighty-some inmates, so we better make for the exit real quick-like."

Murphy nodded in agreement. "So how do we get past the two fellas' guardin' the door down there?"

Edwards pointed in the opposite direction. "Head back that way. Take your first right, then the second right after that, follow that hall like you are headed to the visitation area but make one more right before you reach the doors. That will take you directly to the back entrance of the kitchen. Let's just hope you don't meet any resistance along the way." Pulling up the sleeve of his shirt he exposed a leather-banded watch strapped to his wrist. "I will give you three minutes to start working your way around before I make my move. Hopefully, by the time you reach the kitchen, enough of them will have been drawn away that you don't encounter any problems."

"I would feel better knowin' that ya have some sort of plan worked out, and that your not just goin' to jump in there and hope for the best." Connor was still unsure about letting this young man, this kid, put himself into such a vulnerable position, and he needed to know that Edwards was going to be able to handle it.

"I do have a plan, I promise, but we don't have the time to talk through it. Someone is bound to discover us if we linger much longer, and we need to get this ball rolling. I still have every intention of getting you both out of here tonight."

Connor hesitated briefly before agreeing with a curt nod and turning back to where Murphy was leaning, hunched over, against the wall. His brother seemed to be sliding closer to the ground with every passing second and he resisted the urge to reach out and help support him. "Ya need another minute, Murph?" he asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

With a suppressed groan, Murphy straightened himself back up and shook his head. "We don't have another minute. I'm fuckin' fine, let's go." Without waiting for his brother, he started off down the hall, one hand skimming the wall for support, the other wrapped protectively around his ribs.

Connor looked back at Edwards and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Be fuckin' careful, and don't forget, if you can't make it back, leave us and get out."

The young guard nodded and looked back down at his watch. "Three minutes, you better get going."

Connor gave his shoulder a pat before removing his hand and turning to follow Murphy.

Edwards watched the two men until they disappeared around the first right hand turn, then turned and leaned his back against the wall. Resting his hands on his knees, he gave a deep sigh. It was going to take a crazy amount of luck to pull this off.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

One minute.

Edwards squinted down at his wrist, watching the second hand crawl slowly around, before squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, willing away the headache that was starting to form between his temples. They really didn't have time for this. Fulfilling this vendetta was incredibly bold and was going to seriously reduce their chances of making it out of here in one piece, but he understood. Dropping his hand from his face, he tilted his wrist, checking the time again.

Two minutes.

He understood why the brothers had to finish this. It's what they do. Destroy evil to save the innocent. It's what they did for him and his family eight years ago, and it is what he was determined to see them continue to do in the future. These two men, the Saints, have saved more people than they know and Edwards was determined to do everything he could to return the favor. If finishing off George Maddox was something they felt they had to do, then he would do everything in his power to help them. He owed them at least that much.

Glancing down at his watch one last time, he counted out the last three seconds in his head. Three, two, one and… three minutes. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to settle the fluttering in his stomach before checking over his firearm and flicking off the safety. He dug his hand in his pants pocket and wrapped his fingers around the plastic card that was tucked safely away, reassuring himself that it was still there. This plan wouldn't work without it.

Edwards peeked carefully around the corner one last time before raising his weapon and, using the wall as his cover, he took aim at one of the two men guarding the cafeteria door. _Here we go._ Exhaling the breath from his lungs, he steadied his trembling hands and gently squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit its mark and embedded itself into the inmate's upper thigh, dropping him to the floor.

"What the fuck!" the second convict shouted in surprise as he watched his friend squirm on the ground, clutching the bullet wound in his leg.

Edwards didn't give the prisoner time to react before squeezing off another shot. The bullet went wide this time, missing its target, and the inmate looked up, making eye contact with him.

"You son of a bitch!" the other man cursed at him before ducking his head through the cafeteria door and shouting at someone inside.

Edwards mumbled a few choice expletives under his breath before adjusting his aim and firing off another round. His aim was true and the bullet struck the convict in the leg, closer to his hip, dropping him to the ground next to his friend.

The alarmed shouts of the inmates in the cafeteria drifted to him from down the hall and he trained his sights on the door. The first person brave enough to step out received a bullet in the shoulder. He was doing his best to keep the injuries as non-fatal as possible. He wasn't out to kill anyone, he just wanted to piss them off enough that, when he decided it was time to run, enough of them would follow.

The next thing to come through the cafeteria door was the barrel of a rifle and Edwards quickly ducked back behind the ball just as a spray of bullets sent a shower of concrete and debris flying around him. Taking a shaky breath, he checked his watch again. He needed to speed this up if he was going to have the area clear in time for Connor and Murphy. Now that he had their attention he needed to draw them out, and that wasn't going to happen as long as they thought he was armed.

As soon as the return fire stopped, Edwards brought his gun back up from behind the corner and discharged round after round into the walls and ceiling around the cafeteria door until he heard the click, indicating an empty clip. He knew the bait had worked when he heard the inmates yelling from down the hall.

"He's empty!"

"Go! Let's get this motherfucker!"

Edwards jumped up from his hiding spot and sprinted down the hall away from the cafeteria. He could hear his pursuers shouting behind him and risked a quick backward glance. _Holy shit!_ His heart jumped into his throat at the sight of the angry mob that filled the hallway behind him, and it spurred him on faster.

The sound of gunfire rang out over the loud voices and Edwards stumbled when he felt a bullet whiz by his head, missing him by inches only. Pitching forward he caught himself on his hands and continued running, hardly missing a beat. Taking the next left hand turn, his feet slipped on the slick floor and he scrambled to keep his balance. He was filled with a small burst of relief when he spotted the door to the guards' quarters at the end of the hall. _Almost there._

Shots continued to echo off the concrete walls and Edwards kept expecting to feel the deadly bite of a bullet but, miraculously, it never came. The door drew closer and he fumbled through his pocket till his fingers grasped his plastic I.D. badge and he pulled it out, having it ready.

The infirmary, armory and guard's quarters here at the Hoag were all equipped with a back-up security feature, a safety lock of sorts. In the event of an uprising or any other breach in prison security, a member of the prison staff can slide their I.D. card through the reader, punch in the four-digit distress code, and the door will lock, both inside and out. Once the code has been entered, the only way to unlock it is with an all-clear code that was known only by select members of the staff.

When Edwards reached the door his fingers flew over the metal buttons of the keypad as he entered in the code. As soon as he heard the click of the lock he threw it open and stepped quickly inside, taking care to make sure that the door was left invitingly ajar. Once inside, he ducked off to the right and flattened himself against the wall. With shaking hands he stuck his I.D. in his mouth and pulled a spare clip from his pants pocket. Pressing the button on the side of his weapon, he allowed his empty clip to fall to the floor before jamming the full magazine into the gun with the heel of his palm.

No sooner than the clip clicked into place, did the inmates that had been running him down barge forcefully into the room, sending the door ricocheting off of the wall behind it. None of them noticed him hiding off to the side and Edwards held his breath, certain they could hear his heart hammering in his chest. The convicts split up in their search and one group stormed into the locker room while another went to look for him in the small kitchen toward the back.

As soon as, what he hoped was the last person, came running through the door, he pushed away from the wall and made a dash for the now empty exit.

"There he is!"

"Fucking grab him!"

Edwards heard the shouts but didn't dare look as he grabbed the door handle on his way out and went to pull it shut behind him. Before the door had a chance to latch, one of the inmates grabbed the inside handle and began prying it back open. Raising his newly loaded gun, he stuck it through the widening crack in the door and squeezed the trigger. The inmate on the other side let loose an enraged howl as the bullet entered his knee cap and he released the handle, allowing the door to slam shut.

Wasting no time, Edwards pulled the I.D. card from where he was still holding it, clenched between his teeth, and slid it into the card reader before quickly removing it and punching in the distress code. The lock clicked into place and the sound of banging fists and shouted threats came through from the other side. Releasing the handle, he stumbled backwards until his back came to rest against the wall and he sank to the ground, chest heaving.

Edwards allowed himself a few moments to calm his racing heart and to let the adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins to wear of, before gaining his feet, tucking his gun into the back of his pants and continuing down the hall, away from the furious convicts now trapped behind the steel door. He wasn't sure how strong the emergency locks were or how they would hold up against a few rounds from a rifle, but he knew this was probably a temporary solution only.

Picking his pace back up to a jog, he began winding his way back toward the kitchen, hoping to meet up with the brothers before the action started. Murphy's weakened state had him worried and Connor, albeit in better shape than his brother, was still in no condition to put up much of a fight should they encounter one. That thought caused his slow jog to pick up into an all-out run as he flew around the next corner. So intent was he on reaching his destination, that he failed to notice the sound of a small group of inmates headed in his direction until he came around the bend and smacked directly into them. The collision sent him flying backwards and he stuck his hands behind him to break his fall.

"Whoa there, where you headed in such a hurry, boy?" The convicts hadn't seen his face yet and assumed that, because of the uniform, he was simply another inmate.

Edwards kept his head down as a he pushed himself back up to his feet and attempted to step around the group of men blocking his path. "Nowhere, sorry about that. My mistake."

He had almost made it past when the inmate on the end reached out and clamped his hand around the young man's wrist, yanking him back.

"Hold on a second, I know you." He used his free hand to grab the guard roughly by the chin and force his head up to get a clear view of his face. "Son of a bitch."

"He's one of the fucking guards," another inmate offered up in surprise.

Edwards felt a cold sick feeling begin to form in his gut. He knew what usually became of prison guards left to the mercy of the inmates they guarded and the thought sent a shot of panic through his heart. Jerking his head away from the other man's hand, he tried pulling out of his iron grip but it held fast. Trapped, he felt his fighting instincts kick in and, bringing his free hand back, he curled it into a fist and landed a hard right hook to the inmate's jaw. The larger man released his hold in his shock and Edwards wasted no time in continuing his flight down the hall.

He hardly made it twenty feet before a heavy weight crashed into him, knocking the wind out of him as he was brought hard to the ground. He struggled weakly as he attempted to get his lungs to work again and the convict who had tackled him brought his fist down across his face, stilling his efforts. Edwards was only slightly aware of the weight disappearing off of him as he was hauled to his feet.

"You've got balls, kid, I'll give you that." The inmate who had been the recipient of the Edwards's fist wiped the blood away from his lip before grabbing the guard by the front of his shirt, pulling him close. "You're the one who has been running around here causing all these problems, aren't you?"

Edwards didn't answer, he just kept his gaze glued to the ground.

"You shot Maddox and helped those Saint fuckers get loose?"

No response.

The inmate questioning him growled in frustration and brought his fist down to meet the young man's jaw before taking a step back and addressing the rest of the group. "Come on, we need to get back to the others."

"What are we going to do with him?" another convict asked.

"We take him with us. He may not be the two we're looking for but it's better than going back to Maddox empty handed. Besides," he leered evilly at Edwards, "I think after all the trouble you have stirred up tonight, Maddox will be very happy to see you."

/ / /

"Why do ya think he's riskin' so much just to help us?" Connor asked his brother once they left Edwards behind and rounded the first corner.

Murphy glanced back at his twin and shrugged his shoulders, still keeping one hand on the wall for support. "I don't know, but he is almost as stubborn as you are." He kept his voice low, matching his brother's hushed tone.

Connor scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Aye, that's right, I'm the stubborn one. Never mind the fact that _you're_ the one who insisted on tagging along through a building full of men who all want us dead, to hunt down a dangerous criminal, despite the fact that you can hardly keep yourself upright. But aye, you're right, Murph, I'm the stubborn one."

Murphy shook his head in annoyance at his brother's sarcastic tone. "I already fuckin' told ya, I'm fine." He tried not to sound so out of breath as he said it. "Besides, ya know that ya wouldn't let me do this alone anymore than I will let you." Stopping, he turned and looked into his twin's eyes. "We stay together, Connor. It's what we fuckin' do."

Connor met his brother's gaze for a few moments before looking down at the floor and nodding. "I know. I just," he hesitated for a moment, "I already thought I lost ya once tonight, Murphy, and I wont see it happen again." Looking back up he saw his brother watching him intently. "Rocco, Greenly, Da, and now Rome; I don't want to add ya to that list, I can't lose you too."

Murphy's expression softened and he rested his free hand on his twin's shoulder. He wasn't really sure what to say. He couldn't promise that they would both make it through this alive, but then that had never been a guarantee in their line of work. Neither of them had ever held any illusions about the dangers of their mission, but their faith had always given them the strength to do what needed to be done. Looking at Connor now, he could see the weariness in his eyes and he could practically feel the heaviness bearing down on his brother's soul. Murphy knew that, despite his reassurances, Connor was still shouldering the blame for the events that had taken place that night and he desperately wished he could relieve his twin of the guilt that didn't belong to him.

Giving his brother's shoulder a squeeze, Murphy ducked his head to look into his eyes. "Ya just need to keep trustin' that it will work out, Connor. Have faith."

Connor nodded and opened his mouth to respond but the sound of gunfire echoing through the empty halls cut him off. Turning wide eyes back in the direction they had just come from, he cursed under his breath before glancing back at Murphy. "Maybe they found him. Fuck, we've got to go back." Without waiting for a response he began hurrying toward the origin of the shot.

"Connor, wait," Murphy grabbed his brother by the back of the shirt, "ya can't just go chargin' back. We need to stick to the plan!"

Connor paused for a moment before the sound of two more gunshots propelled him forward again.

Murphy winced at the pull on his ribs as he gripped tighter, attempting to restrain his brother. "Christ Connor, would ya stop for a second!"

The pain in his brother's voice made pull up short and turn back. "We can't just leave him, Murph," he gestured angrily down the hall. "They'll kill 'em!"

Once Connor turned back to face him, Murphy released his hold and, resting his shoulder against the wall, he held up a hand. "This could be a part of his distraction." The shots were being fired rapidly now and he put a hand up to his ear. "Ya hear that? That is return fire. Those shots are from one of the rifles and he is shootin' back, which means he is still alive, holdin' them off. If this is part of his plan and we go back, we lose our chance to make this thing work."

Connor nodded slowly as he listened. "Alright then, let's just hope the kid knows what the fuck he's doin'." Putting his arm around Murphy, he shouldered some of his brother's weight. "Come on, we've wasted too much time, we need to move quickly."

Murphy muffled a groan as his brother hurried them down the hall but didn't protest the help. Making the next right hand turn, they spotted the doors to the visitation area down at the end of the hall and Connor urged his twin on as quickly as he dared.

"We need to turn here." Murphy panted quietly, stopping them just before the next right hand turn.

Connor released his brother, leaving him to rest against the wall while he peeked cautiously around the corner. After taking a quick look he leaned back next to Murphy and let his head fall back against the thick concrete. "I can see the door to the kitchen. It's about twenty yards down the hall, but…" Taking a deep breath, Connor squeezed his eyes shut as his own injuries began to take their toll. His head was pounding so hard that he was beginning to see sparks flying in his vision and the dizziness and nausea that had been plaguing him for the last hour had been steadily growing worse, suggesting he had taken one too many hits to the head tonight.

"But, what? What's the problem, Conn?"

Murphy's voice broke through to him and, opening his eyes, he shook off the weariness that was beginning to take hold. "They have someone posted up at the door. I only see one man, but he is armed. We have to figure out how to take him out without us or him firing our weapons and sending out a giant 'here we are' to Maddox."

Murphy nodded thoughtfully before flashing his brother a mischievous, half-grin, that Connor recognized all too well from their childhood years. "Murph?" he questioned warily as, subconsciously, he began preparing himself for one of Murphy's ill conceived, impulsive, pathetic excuses for a plan.

True to form, Murphy pushed himself off the wall and, without warning, stepped out from behind the corner and yelled out to the man guarding the door down the hall. "Come and get me, motherfucker!"

Connor's eyes widened in shock and, grabbing his twin by the arm, he pulled him back behind the wall. "What the fuck are ya doin', Murph!? Have ya fuckin' lost it!? He could've blown your fuckin' brains out!"

Once he was back behind the safety of the corner, Murphy resumed his position, leaning up against the wall for support. Shaking his head he chuckled at his brother's response. "Whatever, he hardly had time to recognize who I was, let alone get off a well aimed shot. Now, if he's dumb enough, he'll try and chase us down. Once he comes around the corner we can disarm him and take him out before he fires a shot."

Connor smacked his brother lightly upside the head. "That is fuckin' retarded, Murphy! Ya know, there is a reason why I make the plans, not you. And by the way, the point of havin' a fuckin' plan is to actually work shit out first, that's why it's called a fuckin' plan! Ya don't just grab hold of the first spontaneous idea that pops into that fuckin' head of yours and act on it without discussin' it with anyone else!"

"Fuck you, Connor, this is goin' to work just fine. Now calm the fuck down, stop your cryin' and be ready for 'em."

Connor did as he was told but he still mumbled something about _bein' fuckin' professional for once_ combined with a few more quiet curses.

Murphy shook his head and grinned as his brother continued to rant under his breath but after a few moments they both turned serious as they focused on what was coming.

Connor could hear the quiet, tentative footsteps of the man around the corner and he nodded to his twin, it was working. Holding his breath he was suddenly painfully aware of just how loud the wheezing in Murphy's chest was and the sound of it made him cringe. Surely the other inmate would hear it and know that they were waiting for him. Connor was just about to give up on the plan when the tip of a rifle peeked around the corner. Tapping Murphy on the shoulder, he used his fingers to count silently to three. After raising his third finger, he lunged from his spot and, grabbing the barrel of the gun, he yanked the convict around the corner. Connor's other hand went instantly to the inmate's wrist as he attempted to gain control of the weapon before he could fire off a shot. The struggle was intense for a few moments before he managed to slam the prisoner back up against the wall and, getting a hold of his trigger finger, he bent it backwards with a sickening snap.

The convict let loose an enraged growl and dropped the rifle to the ground before charging at Connor, bringing him hard to the ground. Stepping quickly around the corner, Murphy brought the butt of his handgun down across the back of the man's skull and he went limp instantly, crushing Connor beneath his weight.

"Ow, fuck! Fuckin' get 'em off me, Murph."

Murphy heard his brother grunt in pain and kneeled to help pull the unconscious man off of him. Once Connor was free, Murphy sank back down to his knees and clutched his burning ribs as he tried to catch his breath.

"Fuckin' took ya long enough. I thought maybe ya decided to take a nap or somethin'." Connor teased lightly as he moved to help his brother to his feet.

"Fuck… you…" Murphy managed to get out between panted breaths.

Connor took note of his twin's sweat soaked hair and trembling hands but did his best to hide his concern as he reached a hand down, offering him help up. "Come on, we're almost there."

Murphy accepted the hand and rose slowly to his feet, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to knock him back down again. Together the brothers hobbled down toward the now unguarded kitchen door. Once they reached it, Connor pulled it open slowly and stuck his head in, listening for a moment before opening it wider and motioning Murphy in ahead of him.

The cooking area was dark and quiet with no sign of any other inmates lurking about and they proceeded silently, guns drawn. Light from the cafeteria was shining through the serving buffet and the sound of angry shouting reached their ears. Connor and Murphy exchanged glances as they recognized Maddox's voice and Connor crept forward, motioning for his twin to follow. They snuck in just behind the buffet counter where the food was ladled out and distributed and Connor held up his hand, indicating that this was where they would make their stand.

Murphy nodded and they both rose up just enough to peek over the top of the counter. Whatever distraction that Edwards used must have worked because there were only seven inmates milling about the cafeteria, excluding Maddox, who sat hunched over in a chair, his injured leg propped up on a table. Both brothers let their gaze rest on Maddox for a moment before making eye contact with each other once more. In a silent agreement they both raised their weapons simultaneously and took aim at the man who had put them through this hell. Their fingers tensed on their triggers, preparing to finish the convict off when the cafeteria doors burst open and a small group of five inmates came charging through.

"Maddox!" one of them yelled out. "We found someone."

Connor and Murphy tensed and exchanged glances.

"Is it one of them?" Maddox questioned harshly.

The other inmate hesitated briefly. "Well, no, not exactly. But we think you will be just as happy with this one."

The group parted and the form of a young man was shoved forward roughly, landing him on the ground at Maddox's feet.

Connor instantly recognized the young guard on the floor and his heart sank. "Fuck, Murph. They got 'em."

Dropping his head down to rest on his arms, Murphy shook his head in a moment of despair before muttering a silent prayer.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: _So, this chapter took way longer to get out than I am proud of but things happen, real life, writers block, blah blah all the usual excuses. Anyway, it's here now and I hope you all enjoy! Another big thank you for those of you who take the time to review, I love to hear your thoughts so please please please tell me what you think!_**

Chapter 10

"Well, well, look who it is!" George Maddox's mocking voice rang out through the cafeteria, causing Edwards to look up from where he lay on the floor. The convict's cold, dangerous eyes sent a shiver down his spine and he flinched as two inmates pulled him back up into a standing position, twisting his arms painfully behind his back when he fought against them.

Maddox stood stiffly from his chair and hobbled forward a few steps till he was only a few inches from the young man's face. "You've been a busy man Officer Edwards; a real pain in the ass." His voice turned angry and the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed off the walls as he backhanded the guard across the face.

Edwards flinched but didn't make a sound; he just calmly licked the blood out of the corner of his mouth and fixed Maddox with an intense glare. It was going to take a lot more than that to get a reaction out of him.

Maddox noticed the fire of resilience in the young man's eyes and shook his head with a laugh. "That's it, son, put on your brave face. We'll see how long that lasts." He brought his fist down hard once more, snapping Edwards's head back with the force of the blow, before limping back to his seat. Dragging the chair in front of his captive, he eased himself into it with a groan. "Now, I'm going to give you one chance to tell me where those Saint fuckers are hiding before I take matters into my own hands, and believe me, you wont like what I have in mind."

On the outside, Edwards was the picture of calm, careful to keep his facial expression neutral, but on the inside, his senses were screaming at him as his racing heart pumped a large dose of adrenaline through his system. He fought the urge to glance over into the darkness of the kitchen to see if he could spot Connor or Murphy, instead keeping his glare focused on the dangerous man in front of him.

Maddox stared expectantly back at the young guard as he waited for an answer to his question and when it became obvious that the boy was going to refuse him the information he gave an annoyed sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am sick and tired of you hero types and your ridiculous desire to self-sacrifice for the sake of someone you don't even know. Honestly, it's exhausting just watching you, you're making things way harder than they have to be."

Edwards remained silent, staring stonily ahead, and Maddox pushed himself back up out of his chair, growling in frustration. "Fine, have it your way." Digging into his pocket, he produced a crudely fashioned shank that was made from some unidentifiable scrap of metal that had been filed down to a point on one end. Maddox ran his finger experimentally over the tip of the spike before turning back to Edwards. "One of the many downfalls of a hero is their predictability. As they demonstrated to me earlier, the Saints would never let an innocent person die on their behalf. The same way you are willing to sacrifice yourself to protect them. Some people may call it brave or honorable, but I call it foolish. When everyone knows your weaknesses it makes it all too easy to have them used against you. You, Officer Edwards, are one of their many weaknesses, and now that I have you, I can get them."

Maddox made a gesture with his hand and the two men holding the young man from behind switched their grips, restraining him with a choke hold so Maddox could have access to one of his hands. Edwards fought against the new position and attempted to kick out at Maddox as the convict reached for his wrist, earning him another backhanded slap across the face. Before he could recover, the men behind him had secured their hold and Maddox had his arm twisted painfully out to the side, rotating his wrist so that his palm was facing upwards.

Taking the metal spike, Maddox placed the makeshift weapon tip down in the center of the guard's hand before turning and offering up a malicious grin. "Now, it's time for you to call the heroes here to save you." Without further warning, Maddox lowered the spike and began to very slowly work it through the center of the young man's palm.

Edwards squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the intense pain and made a groaning sound deep in his throat but he refused to let out the scream that his body desperately wanted to release. He bit his lip till he tasted the iron bite of his own blood, but he refused to cry out.

"Don't hold it back, son, let them know you need help!" Maddox continued to push the spike slowly through the boy's hand until it started to come through on the other side. "I'm not going to stop until you do it so just let it out! Scream!"

/ / /

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!"

Murphy heard his brother's whispered curses and settled a hand down on his shoulder.

Connor shrugged the hand away roughly and turned worried, slightly angry eyes onto his twin. "I knew this was a bad fuckin' idea! I never should have let the little bastard do this, I told him this was too fuckin' dangerous, and now look at him; in the clutches of the Devil, himself!"

His brother's rantings were merely a whisper but Murphy could still here the anger in his voice. He knew Connor was only mad at himself, blaming himself, yet again, for his inability to keep people safe. Reaching a hand up, he cuffed his brother lightly on the back of the head. "Would ya fuckin' cut it out. This isn't your fuckin' fault, none of this is your fuckin' fault, Connor. It was his idea and we all agreed to the plan. We can still make this work, we have plenty of ammo to take them all and-"

"And can you fuckin' guarantee that the kid won't get caught in the crossfire or be taken hostage once we start shootin'?" Connor interrupted his brother forcefully, fear turning his tone harsh. He couldn't lose anyone else tonight.

Murphy frowned, he hadn't really thought much beyond putting a bullet in the head of each and every one of these bastards. "So we sit tight a little longer and see what happens. Maybe a new opportunity will present itself, and if not then we are right here to intervene if things go south."

Connor opened his mouth to respond when a loud smacking sound caused them both to jump to attention. Edwards' head had been snapped to one side and it was obvious from the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth that the young man had been hit. Maddox made a taunting remark before bringing his heavy fist down for another blow.

"Fuck this!" Connor whispered angrily, raising his weapon back up, preparing to shoot.

Murphy's hand shot out and quickly grasped the barrel of his brother's gun. "Just wait, Connor." He glanced back into the cafeteria and noticed that Maddox was returning to his seat. "He's alright for now, let's just give it a minute and see what happens. We still have the advantage here and I don't think we should give that up just yet."

Connor glanced over at him looking like he was preparing to argue but after a moment of hesitation he simply nodded and relaxed his finger on the trigger. Murphy smiled slightly to himself despite the seriousness of the situation. He wasn't used to being the voice of reason, it was usually Connor who had to talk him down from doing something foolish and impulsive.

Satisfied that his twin was standing down for the moment, Murphy removed his hand from the barrel of the rifle and returned his focus to the scene unfolding out in the cafeteria. He listened as Maddox drilled their young friend about their whereabouts and was less than shocked when the questions were met with silence from Edwards. Murphy was grateful to Edwards for demonstrating such loyalty toward them but he knew it wouldn't go unpunished by Maddox.

Murphy could see Maddox growing more impatient the longer Edwards remained silent and when it became obvious that the convict wasn't going to receive an answer to his question he gained his feet and removed the metal shank from his pocket, causing both Connor and Murphy to tense.

Maddox launched into a speech on the many faults of a hero and the more he talked the more obvious his intentions became. Murphy watched in anger as Edwards struggled within his captors' grip earning him another blow to the face. Maddox forced one of the young man's arms out to the side at a harsh angle and Connor and Murphy exchanged glances, this situation was taking a bad turn.

Connor bumped Murphy's elbow to get his attention. "We need to act now, Murph!"

Murphy narrowed his eyes but otherwise ignored his brother's comment. It wasn't until Maddox brought his metal spike down and began to plunge it through Edwards' exposed hand that he turned and nodded to his twin. "You're right, fuck this, let's do it."

"Fuckin' right," Connor muttered in satisfaction as they both raised their guns. "Do ya trust your aim enough to bring down the two guys holdin' him without clippin' the kid?"

"Aye," Murphy nodded confidently as he adjusted his sights.

"Good, I got Maddox. It looks like six of the others are armed, so they need to be our next priority."

"Got it, and Conn?"

Connor glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "Aye?"

"Don't kill him yet."

Connor understood the request and nodded once in affirmation before adjusting his aim to a less lethal region of Maddox's body. "Here we go."

Those three words were the only warning Murphy had before his twin fired off the first shot. He watched as Connor's bullet lodged itself into the right side of Maddox's chest, dropping the convict to the ground before squeezing off a few of his own.

Edwards' eyes went wide in surprise as the unexpected sound of gunfire filled the air. The arms that had been bruisingly tight around his neck and chest disappeared as the men restraining him crashed to the ground, each with a hole in their head. The other inmates who had been standing by quickly caught up to their surprise and began firing blindly into the kitchen.

Edwards watched as two more men dropped to the floor before shaking himself from his shock and ducking low to the ground. He clutched his injured hand, careful of the metal still protruding from his palm, as he belly-crawled underneath the closest table for cover. Rolling onto his back, he closed his eyes and attempted to steady his breathing. It appeared that Connor and Murphy's side of the plan had worked out and he couldn't have been more relieved at that fact. He desperately wanted to jump up and help them finish this off but his hand felt like it was on fire and he was currently unarmed. He was quietly cursing his helplessness when the feel of cool metal pressing painfully into his forehead snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes shot open and, for a second time that night, he found himself face to face with George Maddox. The convict looked absolutely furious as he fumbled to slow the flow of blood that was pouring from the new hole in his chest

"Make one move and I will blow your fucking head off!" he snarled, giving the gun a rough shake for emphasis.

Back in the kitchen Connor swore loudly, ducking back behind the safety of the buffet counter as a bullet whizzed past his head. Murphy fired off another shot, killing the man who had almost taken off his brother's head, before crouching down and arching his eyebrow in amusement. "Three fuckin' bullets and ya still missed 'em, you're losin' your touch."

Connor gave his twin's shoulder a light shove. "Fuck off, my aim is fuckin' fine. I think the sights are off on this rifle."

Murphy smirked. "Aye, of course, the rifle."

Connor purposefully ignored his brother's teasing as he raised himself back up and fired off a single shot, neatly felling one of the gun-wielding inmates in the cafeteria. "Ha! How's that for losin' my touch?"

Murphy shook his head with a grin and, with some effort, he pulled himself back up next to his twin. "How many do we have left?"

"Six." Connor pulled the trigger again and smiled darkly. "Five." The next time he squeezed the trigger he was met with an empty clicking sound and his heart dropped. "Fuck, I'm out." They both ducked back down behind the counter and took a seat on the floor. "How many rounds ya got left, Murph?"

Murphy did some quick calculating in his head. "Nine, if I counted right."

"Alright then, ya better make 'em fuckin' count."

Murphy wiped at the sweat that was pouring down his face and tried to ignore the stabbing pain he felt in his chest every time he moved. His hands were trembling and his breathing was getting worse but he pushed it all aside, they were almost done with this. Nodding quickly at Connor, he forced himself back up and peered over the top of the counter, quickly taking stock of the situation. The five remaining inmates had turned one of the tables onto its side and were using it for cover. The men who had been unarmed when the firefight began were now carrying the weapons of their fellow inmates who had already fallen. There had been six armed inmates at the beginning and Murphy scanned the cafeteria quickly before spotting the extra rifle laying on the ground about ten feet away from his position.

One of the braver convicts poked his head above the table and attempted to fire on the brothers' position but Murphy was too quick for him and the man fell backwards, sporting a new hole in the center of his forehead. "Christ, I'm fuckin' good at this!" He shot a cocky smile at his brother who responded with an exaggerated eye roll.

"Always so modest." Connor tried to look annoyed but couldn't help the smile that played at the edges of his lips. "Alright Annie Oakley, stay focused." Raising back up he looked cautiously over the top of the buffet. "Do you see the kid anywhere?"

Murphy scoffed, "More like John fuckin' Wayne, and no, I can't see him. I'm hopin' he took his chance and got the fuck out of here."

The barrel of a rifle came up over the top of the table and both brothers ducked back down as a spray of bullets came flying in their direction. "We need to end this. We don't have the ammo to sit here and exchange bullets all night." A clicking sound told Connor that the man firing on them had exhausted his clip as well. "Apparently neither do they and I would rather be the first to make a move than be on the defensive side."

Murphy nodded in agreement before rising up and firing two more shots, just enough to keep the inmates pinned down. "There is a rifle about ten feet out on the other side of the counter. I'll cover you if you make a run for it. I'm afraid you'll be a bit quicker on your feet than I am at the moment," Murphy admitted begrudgingly.

Connor nodded and rested a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder. He knew that Murphy willingly admitting to his inadequacy spoke volumes of the shape his twin was in. "If you keep them hunkered down, I can come around to the side and have a clear shot."

Murphy shot his brother a look. "How in the hell do you expect to get off four clean shots before one of them takes you out?" He felt compelled to point out the obviously dangerous flaw in the plan.

"Well, it's a good thing my brother is such a skilled sharpshooter and can watch my back." Connor grinned, playing off of Murphy's previously boastful confidence.

Murphy wasn't entirely satisfied with his twin's plan but he was too exhausted to argue. He was ready to finish this off. "Alright then, on three; one," Connor moved into a crouched position, preparing to run, "two," Murphy brought his gun up to his chest, moving his index finger so it was resting lightly on the trigger, "three!"

On three Murphy popped up and raised his weapon in one fluid motion. As soon as the first shot was fired, Connor bolted from the safety of his hiding spot and leaped over the counter, making a dash for the abandoned rifle. Murphy squeezed off three rounds in the time it took for his brother to scoop the weapon up off the floor and cover the distance across the cafeteria to the inmates' table shield. Dropping down to his knees, Connor used his momentum to slide across the floor and around the upturned table. Pulling the trigger on his rifle, he brought down one of the unsuspecting convicts and, in their shock, the three remaining inmates foolishly jumped to their feet, putting themselves at the mercy of Murphy's bullets

Quicker than thought, Murphy dropped two of the inmates just as the third charged at Connor, bringing them both crashing to the ground, a tangle of thrashing limbs. Murphy turned his aim onto the man who tackled his brother but he couldn't get a clear shot without risking hitting his twin. "Dammit!" Banging his fists against the counter in frustration he bolted from his protective cover and, as quickly as his injured body would allow, he rushed over to where Connor and the other inmate were rolling on the ground, each fighting for the dominate position.

Murphy reached their position as Connor became pinned on the bottom and, just as the man on top was reeling back to throw a punch, he grabbed him from behind and forcefully hauled him away from his brother. Murphy clenched his jaw as the struggle sent searing waves of pain through his core but he refused to let go, hoping to give Connor enough time to get his feet back under him. Desperate to get loose, the inmate brought his elbow back in a vicious blow, digging the sharp bone into Murphy's injured ribs.

Murphy heard the sound of someone crying out and realized with a strange detachment that the sound was coming from him. He was barely aware of the fact that he was now lying on the ground and he hardly registered the sound of gunfire as Connor ended the life of that last inmate. The only thing he could feel was the pain in his ribs. They felt like they were being crushed under the weight of an eighteen-wheeler and his head felt strangely light as he struggled to draw air into his oxygen-starved lungs. Spots appeared in his vision and his body was beginning to panic at not being able to draw breath, his desperate gasps only making the situation worse.

"Easy, Murphy. Take it easy, slow breaths. I've got ya, ya just got to calm down and breathe."

Murphy could feel someone's hands on his face and he instantly recognized Connor's presence. The words were comforting and helped break through the panic, allowing him to focus on bringing air into his burning lungs.

Connor was relieved when Murphy's body began to slowly respond to his calm words. It had scared the shit out of him when he saw his brother collapse on the ground and he had used the opportunity that Murphy had given him to gain his feet and gather his weapon. As soon as he had a clear shot, he had disposed of the remaining threat before rushing to his brother's side. His twin's eyes were wide with fear and the choking sounds that were escaping his throat made it obvious that he was struggling to breathe. Pushing aside his own fear, Connor placed a hand on either side of Murphy's pale, clammy face and tried to talk him through the fear, praying that it would be enough.

After several minutes, Murphy's breathing began to come a little easier as his heart rate slowed, although, the wheezing in his chest had become worse and his lips remained an alarming shade of blue. "There ya go, just keep takin' slow breaths. You're goin' to be fine, Murph."

"He might as well just go ahead and stop breathing, now," Connor jumped at the sound of the now hauntingly familiar voice and spun around to see Maddox staggering toward them, one arm wrapped around Edwards' chest and the barrel of a gun resting shakily against the kid's temple, "it's only a matter of time at this point."

Connor had been so wrapped up in his fear for his brother that he had forgotten about their unfinished business. He was silently kicking himself now for his reckless inattention. Very slowly, Connor moved to grab for the rifle he had dropped at Murphy's side but stopped when Maddox shook his head at him, adjusting his grip on the gun pressed to Edwards' head.

"I wouldn't do that unless you want to add this kid to the list of people you failed tonight. You better just go ahead and slide that over to me." He nodded his head indicating the rifle.

Connor hesitated for a moment, taking in the man in front of him. Maddox was looking horribly pale and his movements were unbalanced and shaky from blood loss. The convict had two bullets lodged in him and he was still on his feet. Probably running on his pure hatred of the Saints, alone. For a brief second, Connor considered taking up the firearm and fighting back but he could tell by the crazed look in Maddox's eyes that the man wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger at the first sign of disobedience and Connor couldn't risk their young friend's life like that. With a sigh of resignation he set his foot on the weapon and kicked it across the floor before kneeling protectively in front of Murphy, keeping himself between the angry inmate and his brother.

Once the rifle was a safe distance away, Maddox flashed them a feral grin. "Now this feels a bit like déjà vu, don't you think? Here I am with another one of your friends, your… innocents, and there you are, helpless and at the mercy of my generosity. You know, I'm tempted to finish off our little game from earlier. We may be down a couple of players but I bet we can still make this interesting."

As he listened to Maddox speak, Connor was certain he had never hated anyone as much as this man in front of him. A small flutter of movement caught his eye and he glanced down at Edwards. The kid looked scared but he appeared to be focused on something. As soon as the young guard had Connor's attention, he motioned downward with his eyes to where he was fidgeting with something in his hand. Connor Cringed inwardly when he realized that Edwards still had the metal spike sticking though his palm but it only took him a moment to realize what the kid was trying to do.

Very slowly, Edwards was attempting to work the shank back out of his hand without alerting Maddox to his intentions. The pain was intense and it took every ounce of strength for him not to squirm under the effort. Connor could see the sweat beading on the young man's forehead and was half afraid that Edwards was going to pass out but apparently the kid was made of some pretty sturdy stuff.

Not wanting to draw unwanted attention, Connor returned his gaze back up to Maddox who was still rambling on angrily. He was only half paying attention to the raving man and he looked down frequently, checking Edwards' progress. Taking a deep breath, Edwards slid the spike the rest of the way out of his hand and glanced quickly at Connor who gave a barely perceptible nod. He was ready.

In one quick motion, Edwards jabbed the shank backwards, sinking it into Maddox's gut with as much force as he could muster. Maddox let out a pained gasp and loosened his grip just enough for Edwards to slide downward. The weapon that had been resting at his temple discharged and the bullet cut harmlessly through the air where the young man's head had been only seconds before.

Connor wasted no time in responding. Leaping from his spot on the ground, he was on top of Maddox before the convict even knew what hit him. Throwing all of his weight into the tackle, he brought the man crashing to the ground. Edwards reacted quickly, snatching the gun from the inmate's hand before he could fire off any more shots.

Connor felt every emotion from the course of the night come crashing back down on him now. As he straddled Maddox's hips he felt the guilt, the pain, the fear and the rage all come pouring out of him as he beat his fist into the face of the man responsible, over and over again. If Edwards' hand on his shoulder hadn't snapped him out of it, Connor probably would have beaten Maddox to death with his bare hands. Instead, the young man offered up the gun that he had taken as an alternative.

Connor looked up, chest heaving from both emotion and exertion, and nodded, accepting the gun as he stood to his feet. Maddox's head lolled weakly to the side and he made no effort to move. Even if he weren't about to be ended by Connor, he still wouldn't live to see tomorrow. With a rough growl, Connor grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up to his knees only to have him fall forward, unable to support himself.

Moving to stand behind the defeated, slumped over form, Connor raised his gun to the back of the inmate's head.

"Connor." Murphy's weak voice stopped him and he watched as his brother pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and collected the discarded rifle before making his way over. They needed to do this together.

Murphy stood to his brother's right and brought the rifle up next to Connor's weapon. The brothers shared a long look before simultaneously beginning a quiet prayer.

"And Shepherds we shall be, for thee my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command."

Edwards looked on in awe as the brothers recited the strange prayer. He had a feeling he was watching something sacred and he held his breath, afraid of somehow interrupting the moment.

"We shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomine Patris, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti."

The gunfire that followed the prayer brought on an unexpected feeling of relief and as Connor looked down at Maddox's lifeless body he felt as if he could collapse in exhaustion. Turning to Murphy, he expected to find the same emotions playing out on his brother's face but instead he was met with a blank, slightly confused expression that slowly melted away as Murphy fell to the ground, unconscious.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Murphy!" Connor shouted his brother's name in alarm as he scrambled to get to his side. Dropping down to his knees, he brought his hand up to the side of the twin's face and patted his cheek, frantically trying to wake him. "No, no, no, no, come on, Murph. Ya got to wake up now, come on!" Connor's pats were slowly getting harder, bordering on slapping, as his fear made him desperate. "Damn it Murphy, wake up!"

Murphy remained unresponsive, oblivious to his brother's frenzied attempts to reach him, and Connor lowered his ear to his twin's chest, listening for any sign that he was still alive. Sitting up, he quickly sought out Edwards with wide, terrified eyes. "I don't think he's fuckin' breathin'!" Every last shred of calm he had was gone and he could hear the panic in his own voice.

Edwards rushed over to where Murphy lay sprawled on the ground and immediately placed his fingers against the pasty skin of the man's neck, praying that he would find a pulse. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when his efforts were rewarded with the feel of a weak but steady pulse beneath his fingers. Lowering his ear to Murphy's mouth, he was able to hear the wheezing and feel the increasingly shallow breaths that escaped his lips. Lifting his head back up, he settled a comforting hand on Connor's shoulder. "He's still alive but his body isn't getting enough oxygen, which is why he passed out. If he has a punctured lung, which I can almost guarantee, then it's possible his chest is filling up with air, preventing the lung from expanding fully."

Connor looked down at his brother's pale, blue tinted face and felt sick to his stomach. "What can we do? Is there anything ya can do for him?"

"Not here." Grabbing one of Murphy's limp arms, Edwards pulled it over his shoulders and motioned for Connor to do the same. "I need to get you both out of here and get him some real help."

Connor wasted no time in obeying and picked up his gun from where he dropped it on the floor, preparing to tuck it in his pants to free up his hands.

"Um, actually, you may want to let me carry the weapon." Edwards spoke up hesitantly.

Connor shot him a quizzical look and the young man hurried to explain himself. "I am going to be leading you out of the building and it wouldn't look very good to the National Guard or local law enforcement if I allowed the inmate to walk around armed."

Connor knew the kid was right and quickly handed over the gun before reaching down for his twin's other arm. Together they used their combined strength to pull Murphy upright and support his unconscious form between them.

Edwards adjusted Murphy's arm across his shoulders before glancing over at Connor. "Alright, let's go, we need to move quickly."

Connor needed no more encouragement and he quickly guided them across the body littered floor of the cafeteria to the nearest exit. He felt a moment of regret that he didn't have the chance to pray for the souls of the people he had delivered but Murphy's life was more important to him. Pulling open the door with his free hand, he propped it open with his foot so Edwards could pass through first.

The hallways were deceptively quiet and Connor remained on high alert as he followed Edwards toward the prison exit. Casting a sidelong glance at the young guard, he noticed that he was fumbling in his pocket for something and was a little surprised when the kid produced a cell phone.

Flipping open the phone, Edwards began hastily punching numbers before pressing send and bringing the phone up to his ear. "Come on, pick up, pick up," he chanted quietly, willing the person on the other end to answer.

Connor watched curiously, wondering who in the hell he could possible be calling right now, but he didn't question him. He watched as Edwards' face expressed relief when the ringing was finally replaced with the sound of a male voice. The sound on the other end was muffled and he couldn't quiet make out the words but he listened intently to the young man's response.

"It's me. Yeah, I have them both and we are on our way out but there were complications." Connor heard the person on the other end respond and Edwards shook his head. "No, I couldn't get to them in time and they've sustained a few injuries. Murphy is in bad shape and wont make it much longer, we need to change the plan." The voice on the other end raised a few notches in volume and Connor was thoroughly confused by what he was hearing. "What we need is an ambulance, can you make that happen?" Pause. "He doesn't have that long. We'll be out in fifteen, you have to find a way to get it here by then or he's not going to make it."

Connor's heart seized at that declaration. The knowledge that Murphy still might not survive the night terrified him. He knew that, if his brother died tonight, it would be his end as well. That would be one loss that he wouldn't be able to come back from. Edward's voice snapped him out of his dark thoughts as he continued talking to the man on the phone.

"There will probably be a whole line of ambulances standing by out there, how will I know which one is our ride?" Edwards nodded. "Got it, I'll let you know when we're clear." Flipping the phone closed, he replaced it in his pocket before gripping Murphy's arm and giving it a pull, readjusting the unconscious man's weight across his shoulders. He could feel Connor's eyes burning into him but he kept his gaze focused ahead of him. He knew that the other man was going to start asking questions but they didn't have time to discuss this now, they still had to make it out of the prison without drawing the attention of any lurking inmates.

Connor knew that the younger man was avoiding eye contact but that didn't stop him from demanding answers. "Ya want to fuckin' explain to me what the hell that was?"

Edwards waited a few moments before giving in and glancing over, meeting the expecting blue eyes staring back at him. "I promise, you will have all the answers soon but I can't explain everything right now."

Connor felt a slight twinge of annoyance, he felt like he was being left out of a very large loop. "Then ya should've saved the time ya wasted sayin' that and just told me what the fuck is goin' on," he barked out sharply. He hadn't intended to sound so gruff but his pounding head, exhaustion, and worry for his brother were making him rather surly.

Edwards sighed, he should have known that the stubborn Irishman wasn't going to drop the issue so easily. "I'm getting you out of here, and I don't just mean that I am getting you out of the building and into protective custody, I mean I am getting you out." He stared hard at Connor, watching the look of understanding that crossed his face as the realization of what he was saying dawned on him.

"Jesus," Connor's steps faltered slightly as his mind raced to absorb this new information. He had known, ever since Murphy filled him in on his conversation with Father Sibeal, that it might come to this. He knew that whoever their uncle was working with was someone that was determined to see the Saints back out on the streets. Maybe, since Mr. Hunt failed to get their bail negotiation, this was the back up plan that the Father had spoken of. Connor had a thousand questions burning through his mind but he started with the first and most important piece of the puzzle. "The man on the phone, who is he? Who's organizing this?"

Edwards shook his head, not entirely comfortable having this conversation while still in the depths of the prison. "They are friends of yours, but this is really something we need talk about later, we shouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"How in the hell did you even get involved in all this?" Connor pressed, clearly not ready to drop it just yet.

"Your friends are very resourceful and apparently good at doing their homework. I never asked them, but I imagine they looked into all of the prison guards and discovered that I would have the most cause to help you. They approached me and I agreed." Edwards summed it up simply with a shrug.

Connor regarded the young man through narrowed eyes. He never did get the kid to explain why exactly he was so willing to risk his career, his life, as well as possible prison time of his own, just to help them. His curiosity only deepened after hearing how readily Edwards agreed to assist in the breaking out of two high profile prisoners from a maximum-security prison. Opening his mouth, he prepared to pry the answers from the young guard when the sound of Murphy groaning in his ear caused him to pull up short. Ducking his head, he quickly searched his brother's pale face for any sign of consciousness. "Murph?"

Another light moan escaped Murphy's throat only to break off into a fit of unrelenting, ragged, wheezing coughs that seemed to be stealing his breath away quicker than before. "Shit!" Connor glanced quickly at Edwards before motioning to the side of the narrow passage with a nod. "Here, set him down here."

Edwards obeyed and together they lowered Murphy's heaving body to the floor so that his back was resting against the concrete wall. His head rolled limply to the side as the weak coughs continued to wrack his body. Kneeling down, Connor slipped his hands up to rest on either side of his brother's clammy face and gently called to him. "Murph? Can ya hear me?" There was no response and it became clear that, despite his body's reactions, the darker-haired twin was still unconscious. Connor brought his forehead down to meet his brothers and closed his eyes as he whispered words of encouragement. "Just keep breathin', Murphy, slow deep breaths. I know it fuckin' hurts but you just need to breathe. Breathe. In and out."

Despite his lack of awareness Murphy's body seemed to be responding to his twin's desperate pleas. The coughs that were causing his body to spasm were becoming less, however, Connor's relief was only momentary as he realized that his brother's breath was coming even shorter and slower than before. Connor felt the burn of tears in his eyes as he did his best to choke back his despair. It was too much. This whole damn night had been too much. His exhaustion was exacerbating all of the pain, guilt and loss that was swirling around in his mind and he felt himself on the verge of a break.

Tightening his grip on Murphy's face, he pulled back and his eyes turned hard as he spoke to his unconscious brother in a fierce tone. "Don't you fuckin' dare give up, Murphy. You're a fighter, you always have been, and now I need you to keep on fightin'. We're gettin' outta here, you just have to hang on a little longer. Please." That last word came out barely a whisper as Connor lowered back down again to rest against Murphy's perspiration slicked forehead.

Edwards stood just slightly behind the brothers, keeping watch on their surroundings, hoping to avoid any surprises. The young man felt a sense of urgency that was growing by the minute and when he couldn't ignore it any longer he crouched down beside Connor and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "We need to keep moving, Connor. We can't just sit here, he needs medical attention if you want him to live and we can give it to him. We just have to get out of here, alright?"

Connor worked to pull himself back together before turning towards the young man at his side and nodding his agreement.

"Alright," Edwards gave the distraught man's shoulder an encouraging squeeze before moving to help re-shoulder Murphy's weight so they could move on. "We don't have much further to go. Once we're out there I need you to play the obedient prisoner and just follow my lead." He waited until Connor acknowledged him before continuing. "After we get-" Edwards was cut off abruptly as the dim fluorescent lights above them suddenly cut out, throwing the hallways into a pitch-black darkness.

"What the fuck?" Connor whispered. He thought that the prison was eerily quiet before but now it felt as if a thick blanket had been thrown over their heads and the silence was suffocating. Connor felt his heart rate skyrocket as he tried not to panic. It was so dark he couldn't even see his own hand in front of his face, let alone find his way out of this labyrinth of hallways. They were stuck. Murphy was dying and they were stuck here.

**A/N: _Yep, another cliff hanger. Surely you have come to expect this from me by now. It's a short chapter but I don't plan on making you wait very long this time, I will have the next one out soon. I actually intended for this one to be much longer but I decided to split it in half. Hope you enjoyed and don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts!_**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"We have to get the fuck out of here. How in the _fuck_ are we gonna get out of here?!"

Edwards could hear the panic in Connor's voice and did his best to keep his own anxieties at bay despite their current predicament. "We can do this," he tried to sound more confident than he felt. "I know the way out and if I keep my hand on the wall I should be able to feel where we need to turn."

Before Connor could respond, the sound of gunshots rang through the hallways, breaking the silence and filling up the oppressive darkness. "Fuckin' Christ!" Connor's breathing sped up, coming in short rapid bursts as a fresh dose of adrenaline shot through his veins. It was terrifying being stuck in such complete blackness, unable to see the threats around him. Having his sight cut off only magnified his other senses and that, combined with the rush of adrenaline, was making him hypersensitive which was doing nothing to help his already frantic state of mind.

Edwards took a deep breath, trying to steady his own frayed nerves before straining his ears to try and pick up any information on what was happening around them. Two more shots exploded from what sounded like just around the next corner before the gunfire was replaced by loud shouting.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Connor's whispered voice drifted to him through the dark and Edwards quieted him with a gentle shushing noise.

After several long moments of listening for clues, Edwards finally spoke again. "Okay, this is ok, I think we're okay. This might actually be good for us."

If the lights had been on, Edwards would have been able to see the incredulous look that Connor shot in his direction. "How in the hell is this okay? Murphy is runnin' out of time and we're gonna get shot blunderin' around here in the dark! This is not okay!" Even as the words left his mouth Connor knew he sounded pathetic. Between him and Murphy he had always been the calmer, more levelheaded of the two, but now he felt as if, over the course of this hellacious night, every last shred of control had been both physically and emotionally beaten out of him.

"No, it _is_ okay. The electricity, I think it was cut on purpose. I think the teams on the outside have made their move to take back the prison and cutting the power is just an incursion strategy." Edwards did his best to keep his voice steady, hoping that if he remained calm it would help Connor keep it together for just a little bit longer. He didn't blame the other man for his sudden insecurities. He knew that what the Saints had been put through tonight, all the suffering and loss they had endured over the last several hours, would have brought a weaker man to his knees, cowering in fear and ready to give up, but not the MacManus brothers. They remained strong, stayed true to themselves and continued to fight through all of their pain to ensure that justice was served. The Saints of South Boston were every bit the heroes he had always imagined them to be and seeing Connor's understandably wavering confidence now did nothing to change that opinion.

"I am failin' to see how that makes this ok." Connor's tone was dry.

"We can keep pushing forward and feel our way out. Some of those shots sounded pretty close, if we meet up with one of the teams on our way out then they can see to it that we make it out safely," Edwards responded patiently.

"And what if who we meet in the dark is not the National Guard but rather a group of hostile inmates?"

Edwards bit back a sigh. "I was listening to the shouting we heard a few minutes ago and, judging by what I heard, I don't think that will be the case." He could sense Connor preparing to make another argument but Edwards didn't give him the chance. "Look, I know that this night has been hell and you are beyond exhausted, I can't imagine what you are feeling right now, but I need you to trust me, Connor. I _will_ get you out of here and we are going to do absolutely everything we can for your brother, I promise. I just need you to have a little faith."

_Have a little faith._ Isn't that what Murphy had told him, _have faith?_ Connor took his hand that was keeping Murphy's arm strung across his shoulders and moved it down so he was clasping his twin's limp fingers. He would have faith. He would put his trust in this young man who had already more than proved his capability and his loyalty. He would have faith that Murphy would live and everything would work out all right because having it go any other way was not an option.

"Alright," the word came out merely a ghost of a whisper and Connor cleared his throat before continuing. "Lead the way."

Edwards smiled to himself and gripped Murphy's wrist tightly with his left hand before seeking out the wall with the fingers of his right. "Good, we'll have to go slowly, we don't want to risk tripping and falling, any further trauma to his ribs or lungs could be devastating. Our turn should only be a few yards up ahead, after that it is a straight shot to the exit leading out in to the yard."

Connor didn't respond, he just followed silently as Edwards started them moving again. Both men remained tense and alert, straining to pick up on any sound or warning of danger lurking in the inky blackness. After a few moments of stumbling through the darkness in silence, Edwards pulled them to an abrupt stop. "Do you hear that?" he whispered in a low voice.

Connor held his breath and listened…there. A quiet shuffling sound reached his ears but he didn't have long to ponder what it was before a bright spot light switched on, capturing them in its glaring path as loud voices began shouting all around them.

"Get your hands in the air!"

"Down on your knees!"

"Put your fucking hands in the air!"

The bright lights were painful after being stuck in the dark and Connor had to duck his head and squint against the offensive burning in his eyes. It was impossible to see anything beyond the lights but it was blatantly obvious who it was that had them surrounded. Glancing over, Connor caught Edwards' eye and the young guard nodded reassuringly before moving to set Murphy gently on the floor. Once he had his brother lying out on the ground, Connor moved to his knees and lifted his hands in the air above his head in surrender.

Edwards mimicked Connor and, as soon as his hands were raised, men in riot gear wielding assault rifles pushed their way forward and came around behind them, pushing them face down on the ground. Edwards began speaking, attempting to get their attention and explain the situation, but no one was paying him any attention. He was dressed as an inmate and the National Guard had no reason to think otherwise. "Would you just wait a second, I'm a prison guard. Can I get at least one of you just stop and listen to me!?"

Edwards growled in frustration as he felt his arms being wrenched behind his back and plastic zip ties being tightened down around his wrists. He winced and sucked in his breath as the rough movement aggravated his injured hand. A glance to his left told him that Connor was being restrained as well. Once his hands were secured behind his back, the man standing over him began patting him down and quickly discovered the glock tucked securely in the back of his pants.

"This one was armed." The soldier held the weapon up, presenting his discovery to his superior officer.

Edwards tried to struggle back up onto his knees to better address the men surrounding him but he was shoved forcefully back down to his stomach. "Yes, I was armed. I could have told you that if you had taken a moment to listen to me. As I said before, I am a prison guard and these two men are in my custody. The one on the ground, he needs medical attention immediately. I was trying to get them both out of here to safety." The frustration was evident in his voice as he spoke up again, trying to make them understand. "In my right pocket you will find my staff I.D. I dressed like an inmate to blend in and keep myself from being targeted. Just please take a moment to check my I.D."

Edwards seemed to have finally gotten through to them because he felt the crushing weight disappear off of his back and a hand moved to his pants pocket. After a moment of rummaging the soldier pulled out a laminated plastic card and shined a flashlight in Edwards' face as he scanned the card with his eyes, comparing the picture to the man on the ground in front of him. After a moment of careful scrutiny the man nodded in confirmation at his leader and handed the card over to be verified.

"Alright, release him." The order came from behind those bright lights and the soldier immediately produced a knife and severed his bonds before giving him a hand up off the ground.

Whoever was operating the spotlight changed the angle so the light wasn't aimed directly in his face and Edwards was able to get a better look at the team of men around them. A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder before giving him a rough pat on the back.

"Sorry about that, Officer…" the man glanced back down at the I.D. card in his hand, "Edwards. That was some smart thinking, changing out your uniform; unfortunately, we had no way of knowing you weren't an inmate. We have been met with incredible hostility thus far and we aren't taking any unnecessary risks."

Edwards waved off the apology. "Understandably so. This has been a particularly violent uprising and the convicts in here aren't messing around. They're out for blood." Edwards glanced back over at Connor who was shifting impatiently on his knees, casting worried glances at Murphy who remained sprawled on the floor. Looking back up, he addressed the soldier in front of him. "I need to get these men out of here, they aren't safe and this one needs an ambulance or he is not going to make it."

The commanding officer looked down, first at Connor, and then at Murphy's still form and his eyes widened in realization. "Is this them? The brothers?" he focused his gaze back on Edwards. "The Saints?"

Edwards nodded hesitantly. "This riot was all about them. A group of inmates organized it as a way to get to them. Like I said, they aren't safe in here and I need to get them out."

The soldier gave a short nod before motioning to one of the men on his team. "Jackson, I want you to help officer Edwards escort these men to safety. When you're finished, join team two for the final sweep." He gave the young man hurried instructions before turning back to Edwards. "He will see you safely out."

Nodding a quick thanks, Edwards headed back over to Connor as all but one of the soldiers continued stealthily down the hallway. Grabbing the man gently by the elbow, he helped him slowly to his feet. Connor swayed unsteadily and Edwards gripped him tighter, giving him a chance to find his balance. "We're almost there," he whispered, the words for Connor's ears alone.

Connor's hands were still zip tied behind his back and Edwards knew it had to stay that way for the sake of appearances, but that meant it was up to him and their new escort to carry Murphy the rest of the way out.

Connor wanted to be the one to carry his brother, wanted to hold him and be able to reassure himself that his twin was still alive, but he bit back his arguments and followed obediently behind Edwards as they continued down the dark hallway. The bright beam of light streaming out from the soldier's flashlight guided their way and within just a few moments they reached the thick steel door that led out into the yard.

Edwards flashed a quick glance over his shoulder at Connor before shoving the door open and passing quickly through the opening.

For the second time, Connor found himself having to squint his eyes against the offensive bright lights that were illuminating the entire outdoor yard of the facility. The quiet halls of the prison contrasted sharply with the lights, loud noises and throngs of people milling about on the outside. The change in atmosphere threw him off and Connor found himself reeling with anxiety.

The National Guard teams preparing to enter the prison occupied one side of the yard and the other was filled with a large group of inmates being carefully watched by a handful of prison guards and police officers. Beyond the razor wire topped fence surrounding the yard were the bright flashing lights of at least twenty police cars, a fire truck and over half a dozen ambulances.

Connor felt his heart hammering in his chest as he took in the chaos around him. How in the _hell_ was Edwards expecting to sneak them out of here with half the damn state police force keeping watch?

As if he sensed the other man's unease Edwards turned to look back over his shoulder and mouth the words, "Just stay with me."

Connor nodded and kept his gaze focused on Murphy in front of him as Edwards led them into the crowd of people.

"Officer Edwards!"

A short, stocky man with slowly balding brown hair, rushed out of the crowd toward them and Edwards came to a halt as he approached.

"Edwards, what in the hell happened to you?" The man's eyes roved over the bruises covering the young man's face then down to the hole in his hand. "I was told that you went back for the MacManus boys. Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid that was? What the hell were you thinking? Your orders were to fall back and-"

Edwards held up a hand to interrupt the lecture as respectfully as possible. "Yes Warden, I understand. I broke protocol and, come tomorrow, I will own up to my decision and accept whatever punishment you see fit, but now, I have to get these two to an ambulance. Murphy here is in bad shape and failing fast and I am pretty sure that Connor has a concussion. They need help, now."

The Warden's gaze moved to Murphy and then to Connor behind him and his eyes widened slightly as if he was just now noticing the two brothers that Edwards had drug out of the building with him. His eyes went back to Murphy's limp form, still dangling between Edwards and the National Guard soldier, and he seemed to sense the seriousness of the situation. "All right, follow me," he said in a clipped tone before turning on his heel and marching them in the direction of the ambulances that were standing by.

As they drew closer to the line of ambulances, Edwards began scanning for the one that was supposed to take the Saints to their freedom. His eyes studied each one carefully but they all looked relatively the same and he began to panic slightly. What if they hadn't been able to make it here in time? They were only going to get one shot at this and he didn't want to think of what would happen if it failed.

As they approached the gate leading to the other side of the fence, a man dressed in an EMT uniform rushed over to them, pushing a gurney along with him. Edwards felt a sweet rush of relief as he looked closely at the medic and realized he recognized the man as a member of the team that had been put together to help organize the Saints breakout. They were okay. This was going to work.

The Warden slipped a ring of keys from his pocket and quickly unlocked the gate, allowing Edwards and the Guardsman to pass through with Murphy, followed by Connor.

"Here, lay him down on here!" The man in the EMT uniform instructed as he moved to help settle Murphy gently on the gurney. "What happened to him?"

Once Murphy was down, the soldier dismissed himself, leaving to rejoin his team, and Edwards took up the other side of the Gurney and helped push as he quietly went over Murphy's injuries. "Broken ribs, at least two, probably more, punctured lung, likely concussion as well as numerous cuts and bruises all varying in severity. His breathing has been very labored and his body hasn't been getting enough oxygen. He has been unconscious for about a half an hour, now."

The medic nodded at his report as he led them to an ambulance at the end of the line. Positioning the gurney at the open doors, they lifted and pushed until the wheels folded up and the bed slid smoothly into the back. The EMT jumped in and immediately began cutting Murphy's shirt from his body with a pair of trauma shears. Edwards was about to usher Connor in next when the Warden set a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

"Officer Edwards, I want you to ride along with Murphy. We need all hands on deck here while they clear the prison, so he will have to remain in your custody at the hospital until I am able to organize a more secure watch team. I've radioed in for Officer Jones to come and escort the other MacManus in a separate ambulance, he should be here in a moment."

Edwards felt the panic start to return as the Warden declared his intentions. Split them up? _Shit! _"Sir, that isn't necessary. I can handle them both; they wont give me any trouble. Like you said, you need all the help you can get here. Why don't you just let them both ride with me then you don't have to lose two guards."

The Warden was shaking his head in disagreement before Edwards even finished his argument. "I won't risk putting two high-profile prisoners such as these boys in the same ambulance, it is risky enough sending them out there without a proper police escort. After the clusterfuck we experienced here tonight, I am going to be under enough fire as it is. I won't be made a mockery of by losing these two on top of everything else."

"But sir-"

"Edwards, are you going to stand here all night and argue with me or are you going to get that young man to a hospital?!"

The Warden was losing his patience, Edwards could see that and he wasn't sure what he should do. He couldn't leave Connor behind but his options were narrowing down to nothing. He opened his mouth to protest again only nothing came out and he just ended up glancing helplessly back and forth between Connor, the Warden and the ambulance that was waiting on him to depart.

"Well?" the Warden questioned impatiently, one eyebrow raised in growing suspicion.

Edwards was saved from answering by the sound of Murphy being sent into another helpless coughing fit. The EMT that was working over the prone man looked up with wide eyes and met Edwards' desperate gaze. They were out of time.

Connor felt helpless. When Edwards had first motioned for him to climb into the back of the ambulance, he felt that for the first time all night, everything was going to be okay. They were almost out of there. However, when the Warden came up with his own plan, he felt that relief crumble and fall away as the familiar feeling of despair came crashing back over him. He stayed quiet as Edwards protested the separation but Connor could tell by the expression on the Warden's face that it wasn't going to change his mind. Edwards glanced at him and he could tell that the young man had no idea what to do.

The thought of being separated from Murphy again caused small bubbles of panic to form inside of him and he could feel himself start to break. They couldn't do this; Murphy needed him! Didn't they understand that they had to stay together? When Murphy broke out into another bout of coughing Connor tried to rush forward to his brother's side only to be stopped by the Warden who grabbed him by the plastic zip tie that was keeping his hands restrained behind his back.

"I don't think so, you stay right here." He spoke roughly to Connor before turning back to Edwards. "Officer Edwards, if you don't get in that ambulance and get him out of here right now I will call someone else to come do your job for you!"

Murphy's coughing was becoming more and more violent as his body finally began succumbing to the trauma it had endured and the man in the ambulance shouted at Edwards. "We have to go!"

Finally, making the only choice he could, Edwards moved from where he had been rooted in indecision and jumped into the back of the bus.

"Murphy! Murph! Fuckin' let go of me! Murph!" Connor fought hard against the man holding him back and had almost broken out of his grip when Officer Jones ran up and roughly seized the hysterical man's arms, pulling him away toward the next ambulance in line.

The last look Connor got of his brother before the ambulance doors were slammed shut was terrifying. Murphy couldn't breath around the vicious coughs and blood was starting to flow down his chin from his mouth. Connor fucking lost it. Kicking backwards he nailed whoever was holding him from behind in the kneecap, causing them to loosen their grip enough for him to slip away. He ran for the ambulance that was slowly pulling away with it's siren wailing but didn't get very far before he was tackled and brought hard to the ground. "Murphy! Let me go! I need to fuckin' help him! Murphy! Murph!"

"Jesus, calm the fuck down! They are more capable of helping him than your are right now, just let him go!" Officer Jones was back on top of his prisoner trying to talk some sense into him but Connor was too far gone to listen to any form of reason.

"Murph! Murph!" Connor continued to call his brother's name as the ambulance made a turn, leaving the facility, and the flashing lights disappeared from view. "Murphy!"

"Fuck, would someone fucking help me here?!" Jones yelled out as Connor began bucking underneath of him, trying to throw him off.

Connor barely registered the sting of the needle in his arm as one of the EMT's injected him with a tranquilizer, he just continued fighting until his limbs began to feel heavy and his words became increasingly more difficult to form. "Murphy…Murph…no…Murph…" He called for his twin until his mind refused to work and he could no longer force the words from his mouth. His eyelids began to close on their own volition until finally he slipped into darkness.

**A/N: _Well there it is, chapter 12. Told you it wouldn't take very long! Hope you enjoyed it and please take the time to let me know your thoughts on your way out!_**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:_ I present to you, at just over 7,000 words, the longest chapter of the story, thus far! Hope you enjoy and, good or bad, I would love to hear your thoughts!_**

Chapter 13

"Fuck!" Edwards slammed his good fist hard against the metal interior of the ambulance, before running a trembling hand through his dark, sweat-slicked hair. It killed him to leave Connor behind. He could still hear the man's desperate cries for his brother echoing through his mind. Edwards had promised him that he would get them out of there and that broken promise was now haunting him, laughing in his face. "Fuck," he swore again, quieter this time, as he wiped at the tears that were shining in his eyes. Scrubbing at his face with his hands, he tried to shake off his emotions and pull himself together. Murphy needed him now and he'd be damned if he failed both MacManus brothers tonight.

Edwards forcefully drug his focus back over to where Murphy was struggling to breathe so hard that he was coughing up blood. Wracking his brain, he tried to recall everything he could from his brief medical training on treating lung injuries.

"Hey Doc, we could really use you back here right about now!" The man in the EMT uniform across from him leaned forward and shouted up toward the front of the ambulance.

Edwards looked up, his expression quickly morphing from one of confusion to one of shock, as a familiar looking blond haired man climbed from the passenger seat into the back and immediately began working over Murphy's convulsing body. "Dr. Schneider? Where… how… what are you doing here?"

Dr. Schneider ignored the young guard's stammering question, keeping his focus on the injured man in front of him. Running his hands over the Irishman's ribcage, he immediately felt the air that was trapped there causing his chest to bulge out on one side. "Did he break a rib?" Dr. Schneider didn't look up but the question was directed at Edwards.

Edwards, who was still getting over the shock of this strange twist, nodded his head in affirmation. "Yeah, more than one. My medical training is limited but I am fairly certain that he has punctured a lung as well. His breathing has steadily been getting worse since he sustained the injury. He passed out about thirty minutes ago and has been unconscious ever since." The doctor's expression turned grave and Edwards felt a cold knot form in his stomach. "Can you help him?" he questioned softly, half afraid of the answer he would receive.

Dr. Schneider turned in his chair and began rifling through the medical supplies lining the wall behind him. "I am going to do everything I possibly can. You were right about his punctured lung. The injury has created a tension pneumothorax, which means that his chest is filling with air and preventing his lung from expanding and functioning properly. He can't breathe and we need to drain the air quickly before he suffocates."

The coughing that had been ripping ruthlessly through Murphy's body had finally ceased and the man went still. Dropping his ear down to his mouth, Edwards tried in vein to detect any breath sounds leaving his body. "He stopped breathing!" He looked up desperately to where Dr. Schneider was still rummaging frantically through the medical supplies, clearly not finding what he needed.

"Come on, come on, shit, where are you." The doctor was mumbling distractedly to himself as he searched for whatever life saving equipment he needed to help his patient. "I just need to find a… ah, here it is! Got it!" He held a plastic package triumphantly above his head as he turned back and ripped through the wrapper.

Edwards watched as Dr. Schneider pulled a long thin tube out from the sterile packaging and produced a clean scalpel from a drawer at his side. "All right Edwards, I'm going to need your help with this." Looking up, he spared a quick glance at the young man who was staring wide-eyed back at him.

"I've never done anything like this before." Edwards suddenly felt his confidence wavering. The thought of failing right now with Murphy's life on the line terrified him and he felt himself freezing up.

"Hey, look at me," Dr Schneider waited until the young man met his gaze before continuing, "you can do this. I only need you to help me hold him, I'll do the rest."

He only hesitated for one more brief moment before taking a deep breath and nodding confidently.

Dr. Schneider could see the young man's resolve hardening and nodded back to him. "Alright, I need you to help me get him on his right side with his left arm above his head. You have to keep him in that position and you have to keep him very, very still."

Edwards did as he was told and, when he had Murphy positioned just right, he looked back up expectantly.

"Good," Dr. Schneider turned and addressed the man in the medic uniform sitting next to him. "I need you to take that bottle of iodine behind you there, and squirt a generous amount in this entire area." He gestured to a large section of Murphy's ribs. Once that was done, he took a deep breath, repositioned the scalpel in his hand and glanced one more time up at Edwards. "Remember, _very_ still."

Edwards nodded and, without further delay, the doctor lowered the sharp edge of the knife to Murphy's flesh and began slowly cutting a small slit, approximately one inch in length. When he was finished with the incision he set the scalpel aside and, with skilled fingers, began threading the tube through the small cut he had made in between Murphy's ribs. Very slowly, he pushed on the tube until it was placed in the pleural space, precisely right in between the inner lining and outer lining of the chest cavity.

Once the tube was in place, a large rush of air came out the other end and Edwards looked up hopefully at Dr. Schneider who nodded in confirmation.

"It's working, we just need to get him breathing again."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Murphy jerked and began spluttering and coughing as his lungs began gulping desperately for the air they had been deprived of for far too long.

Dr. Schneider clamped a hand down on the tube sticking out of the man's ribs, trying to prevent it from getting displaced while Murphy moved around as he fought to catch his breath. "Keep him still! I haven't had a chance to stabilize to tube yet! If it gets shoved in too far it can damage his lung even more."

Edwards tightened his hands on the struggling man as he leaned down and spoke quietly in his ear. "Easy, Murphy. We have you. You're safe. You're going to be ok but you have to lay still for me, okay?" The coughing began to ease up as Murphy's lungs started functioning more smoothly and Edwards kept up a steady stream of reassuring words. "There you go, slow breaths. Don't gasp just let it come back on its own. Good job, Murphy, your doing great." Looking up, he watched as Dr. Schneider prepared a needle and thread, getting ready to apply a single stitch to the incision to help hold the tube in place. The doctor glanced over, met his gaze and gave him a soft smile.

"That's good, keep talking to him," he encouraged.

Edwards nodded and turned back to Murphy who, to his surprise, was looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Murphy? Can you hear me?"

Murphy blinked slowly and looked around him in dazed confusion. "Connor?" He tried to speak, tried to call out to his twin, but his voice was rough and raspy and the effort only set him off coughing again.

Edwards rubbed small soothing circles on Murphy's back and whispered calm words in his ear while he waited for the spasms wracking through the man's body to subside. At last, after several minutes, Murphy finally fell silent and Edwards looked down to see that he had slipped back into unconsciousness. His breath was coming much easier now but his body was so weak from the trauma of it all that it had pulled him back into a healing sleep.

With Murphy passed out and Dr. Schneider focused on securing the chest tube in place, the ambulance had fallen under a blanket of silence. Even the wail of the siren had ceased because, after all, there was no need for a siren when they had no intention of actually going to a hospital. The thought of where they _were_ going, of the safe house that had been set up specifically for harboring the newly freed Saints, brought the tide of guilt rushing back full force. He had left Connor behind. How could he have done that? Then again, what else could he have done? He'd had no choice…right?

Keeping one hand firmly planted on Murphy's left arm, Edwards used his other hand to cover his face, as if he were trying to block out all of the self-incriminating thoughts that were swirling around his head. It wasn't working. How was he going to tell Murphy that he had abandoned his brother? Connor had been the first thought on Murphy's mind when he opened his eyes, the first word to pass his lips had been his twin's name, and Edwards knew that the other man would never forgive him for this.

"It's not your fault, you know."

The gentle voice snapped him away from his thoughts and, pulling his hand from his face, he looked up into Dr. Schneider's concerned eyes. "It was my job to get them both out." He dropped his gaze back down to Murphy's pale face. "It was my job. They were depending on me and I failed. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

Dr. Schneider let out a small sigh before looking back down and applying one last piece of medical tape to stabilize the tube as much as possible. After he smoothed the strip of white adhesive down on the plastic tube and across Murphy's skin, he set the roll of tape aside and nodded at Edwards. "Alright, we can lay him out on his back again."

Very gently, Edwards lowered Murphy's arm back down to his side and, with the help of the doctor, they rolled the unconscious man slowly over onto his back. The man in the medic uniform excused himself and carefully crawled to the passenger seat to help the driver navigate the quickest way through traffic to their destination. They sat in silence in the back for several long moments until Dr. Schneider's gentle voice broke the quiet.

"I don't know what went on inside that prison tonight, Edwards, but I am pretty good at filling in the blanks and I would be willing to bet that, had it not been for you, this night would have ended a lot more tragically than it did. You saved Murphy's life and, knowing what I know of the MacManus brothers, that is the most important thing to Connor. They care more about each other than they do themselves."

"Exactly!" Edwards looked up with a painful expression written across his face. "And how do you think Murphy is going to react when he wakes up and discovers that I left his brother behind? He's going to hate me."

"No," Dr. Schneider stated firmly, "he will understand that you had no other choice. He _will_ be upset but it wont be your fault and he won't blame you."

Edwards nodded softly as he allowed the doctor's words sink in. He desperately wanted to believe them. They fell back into silence for a bit longer before Edwards finally fixed curious eyes on the man across from him. "Dr. Schneider, what exactly are you doing here? No offense, but I didn't really peg you for the type to assist in breaking vigilantes out of prison."

The doctor ran a hand through his closely cropped hair and sighed. "I was approached by, who I can only assume, are the same people who propositioned you. The first time they contacted me, I told them that I couldn't be involved, although, I agreed to keep their intentions to myself. Tonight, I got a phone call, they explained the situation and I couldn't bring myself to refuse a second time. Murphy is still my patient and it is still my duty as a doctor to do what I can to help him, no matter the circumstances." He gave a little half smile and shook his head. "At least, that was how I justified it in my head."

"Well, I'm glad you changed your mind. I don't think I would have been able to help Murphy in time to save his life." Dr. Schneider didn't comment so Edwards continued speaking. "They really are good people, you know. I don't care how the media spins it, making them look like monsters, or what anyone else in the damn city has to say about them. They're good people and they deserve so much more than to be locked away in the Hoag with a life sentence. The job they do is necessary and they have saved so many lives doing it."

"But they have also ended just as many." Dr. Schneider interjected softly.

"Maybe so, but every life they have taken was nothing more than a plague on society. Rapists, murderers, drug dealers, mobsters; the same kind of people you and I associate with on a daily basis. I know that, after all of the years you have spent working in that prison, you are aware of just how dangerous those people are. The Saints, they would never hurt an innocent person. Every life they have taken has saved countless of other potential victims." He met the Doctor's eyes and motioned down to Murphy on gurney in front of him. "He is a good person and you did the right thing saving his life."

Dr. Schneider dropped his gaze down to his hands where they lay folded in his lap before glancing over at Murphy. "I know they are good people," he started off quietly and Edwards had to strain to hear. "Honestly, I probably wouldn't be here if I thought otherwise. It's just hard for me to reconcile the murdering vigilante Saints of South Boston, with the genuinely good human beings that I know they are. However, despite my moral dilemma, I don't regret my decision to help. _Yet,_" he added with a small smile.

Edwards respected the man's position and offered him a grateful smile. "Well, thank you for all that you've done. I know Connor and Murphy will be thankful for you stepping up and risking so much to help them out."

Dr. Schneider just nodded thoughtfully and both men returned to a comfortable silence. They traveled for another ten minutes before the ambulance finally came to a stop and the two men in front jumped from the cab and came around to open the back doors.

The man who had presumably been driving the ambulance jumped into the back and started unloading the gurney. "We have to dump the ambulance here. We don't have much longer before they realize we didn't make it to the hospital and following that will be, what I can imagine, one of the largest manhunts Boston has seen in years. We need to get to the safe house, preferably before that happens."

Edwards didn't hesitate and immediately began helping lower the gurney to the ground without jostling Murphy too much. Stepping out of the back, he shivered slightly in the chilly night air before looking around and realizing they had pulled off on the side of the road underneath a darkened overpass. There didn't appear to be any other vehicle standing by and he was just about to question their next move when a standard white utility van pulled up behind them.

"That's our ride." The driver of the ambulance spoke up and motioned for them to head toward the van. Edwards opened the doors to the back of the van and they slid Murphy in as gently as possible. "Doc, if you need any of that medical supplies from in there, I suggest you grab it now."

With a nod Dr. Schneider headed back to the ambulance and began snatching up a few select items while Edwards and the other two men loaded up into the back of the van. The doctor jumped in behind them a few moments later and, after slamming the back doors closed, the van sped off to their next destination.

/ / /

Connor lay on his back and stared unblinkingly out the small hospital window next to him. He felt numb and knew that it was due largely in part to the sedatives they kept pumping into his IV. Upon waking up at the hospital, he had surprised the nurses and doctors that were crowding around his bed by fighting like a cornered wild cat to get loose, screaming Murphy's name all the while. It had become clear to them that the man wasn't all the way there and was only going to cause himself more harm fighting the way he was, so the doctor in charge had ordered a strong sedative and they quickly had the bed restraints velcroed around his wrists and ankles. The fight had left him pretty quickly after that and he fell into a defeated silence. He had refused to answer any of the doctor's questions and completely ignored the group of people moving around him until, eventually, they gave up trying to get a reaction out of him. Once his IV was set up and his wounds were stitched and dressed, they all filed out of his room, leaving him to stare blankly out the window.

The pull of the drugs coursing through his veins was begging him to just close his eyes and drift off, but Connor resisted the urge with everything he had. He didn't want to close his eyes. The images that flashed in his mind whenever he let his eyelids slip shut haunted him and had him fighting against his extreme exhaustion as well as the mind clouding effects of the drugs that seemed to only want to pull him under. However, even with his eyes open he still couldn't stop the flood of memories that tore through his mind. He remembered Romeo. Remembered the loyalty and unwavering confidence that the man had had for the Saints and their mission. He remembered the look on his friend's face when he realized that he was dying and Connor couldn't help the feeling of guilt that came with the memory. He didn't save him; he didn't make the choice that would have spared his life. It was his fault.

Murphy had told him that the blame for Romeo's death didn't belong to him. Connor had tried to believe that but his brother was no longer here to keep reminding him and, without his brother, he wasn't nearly strong enough to fight away the guilt that was tearing at him. Murphy had always been there, his entire life he had always had his brother by his side to balance him out, because that was what they did, they balanced each other out. Connor had always had a habit of blaming himself when things went wrong. Even as kids, if Murphy ever got hurt or the two of them got into trouble in school or with their Ma, Connor was always ready to shoulder the blame. Sometimes, especially when they were younger, Connor had a tendency to take things a little too seriously. He was more of a sensitive child, which made him more prone to having his feelings hurt, but Murphy was always here to balance him out again.

That relationship went both ways. Where Connor was cautious and calculating, Murphy was impulsive and reckless. Murphy had always felt things with his heart before he thought them with his head and that had often gotten them into trouble. However, just as Murphy was there for him, Connor was there for Murphy, keeping them balanced. If Murphy ever noticed Connor trying to blame himself for something that wasn't his fault, he would immediately set his brother straight and Connor would always listen. When Connor would pick up on the small telltale signs in Murphy's body language or facial expression that suggested his brother was about to act before fully thinking it through, he would pull him back and help him work through it. If Murphy saw Connor worrying over something, he was always there to make him laugh again and lighten the mood as he brought things into perspective. They were a team, two pieces of a whole. Twins.

The time Connor had spent in solitary confinement, which now seemed like ages ago, was the first time him and Murphy had been separated for an extended period of time in longer than he could remember. As children, they never left each others side. They may have spent a good portion of their time driving their Ma crazy with their bickering and scrapping but they would always make up, forgive each other and things would go right back to normal. In school, if they got split up into separate classes, they would throw such a huge fit that the teachers would eventually just give in and put them back together again. Some people had tried to tell their Ma that it was going to cause problems for them later in life. That it wasn't good, the way they depended on each other so much, but their Ma knew otherwise. Annabelle MacManus knew that her boys needed each other and that their dependence on the other was going to be essential. She knew that, despite what everyone else said, her boys weren't each other's weakness, they were each other's strength.

Now that Murphy was no longer with him, Connor felt as if all of his strength had been sucked away, leaving him dangerously weak. He wanted nothing more than to talk to his twin, to see for himself that he was still alive, but Murphy wasn't here. _Murphy is gone._ The voice in his head spoke those words over and over again until a lone tear slipped from his eye and tracked down his face before falling to stain the pillow beneath him. Connor knew that, even if Murphy had survived his injuries, the chances of them ever seeing each other again were non-existent. He knew that the ambulance that took his brother away wasn't headed to a hospital. It was headed somewhere where Connor could no longer follow. He was still in custody, destined to be returned to the Hoag, back where this whole nightmare started. Maybe, whoever it was that seemed to want the Saints freed so badly, would come back for him. Connor knew that if Murphy had any say in the matter, getting him out would be a priority. That thought gave him a small sliver of hope but he also knew that after Murphy's escape tonight, they would be watching him even closer than before. They might even move him to a different prison entirely; probably upgrade him to a super max. This entire situation seemed so fucking bleak that it was hard for him to hold on to any kind of optimism.

Connor's swirling thoughts were interrupted by the sound of muffled voices in the hall outside his room. He couldn't get his mind to focus enough to quite make out what they were saying so he just kept his gaze focused on the sky outside his window and waited. The sun was coming up now and it painted the heavens with brilliant pinks and purples but Connor hardly noticed. He felt like he was still stuck in the dark hallways of that damn prison.

The talking outside his door ceased and his fuzzy brain registered the sound of footsteps as several men entered his room.

"MacManus, there are some gentlemen here who want to have a word with you."

Officer Jones' voice registered through his mind but Connor didn't turn to face him. He just kept his glazed eyes fixed on the window without giving any sign that he heard the other man.

At Connor's lack of response, the guard turned and, in a low voice, addressed the two, well-dressed men that had followed him into the room. "Like I said, he's heavily sedated and has refused to speak to anyone since he was separated from his brother. He's been staring out that damn window for the past hour. I don't think he's quite all the way there." He tapped his temple, indicating that he was referring to Connor's mind.

Despite the attempted whispering, Connor was still able to hear the comment concerning his questionable mental state, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He knew he wasn't crazy, a little broken maybe, but not crazy.

Ignoring officer Jones, the two men in suits stepped forward. One stopped at the foot of the hospital bed and the other pulled up a chair and sat directly in Connor's line of sight, blocking his view of the window. "Mr. MacManus, I am U.S. Marshal Charlie Weston and this is my partner Marshal Steven Garcia." He motioned to the man standing at the end of the bed. "We have a few questions that we need you to answer for us, do you think you can do that?"

Connor remained unresponsive and continued to stare right through the man, refusing to acknowledge his presence. He knew what they were here for and he certainly wasn't going to help them. One of the jobs of a U.S. Marshal was to track down and apprehend fugitives and there was only one reason they would be here to talk to him now- Murphy.

Marshal Weston was undaunted by the lack of response he received and pressed on. "Our questions are regarding your brother, Murphy. The ambulance he was in when he left the prison was found, abandoned and empty, on the side of the road, just outside of Boston. Only a small handful of people knew that your brother was being transported and there was no sign of a struggle, so whoever organized this was someone on the inside. When Murphy left the prison, he was in the custody of a prison guard by the name of Joshua Edwards. What can you tell us about this man?" No response. "According to the Warden, this guard had taken an unusual interest in you and your brother, going so far as to risk his life by going back for you in the middle of a violent uprising. Did Joshua say anything to you about what he was planning or who he was working with?" Silence. The Marshal let out a sigh as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I understand why you don't want to help us, really I do. You are loyal to your brother and, especially after what you both went through tonight, I am sure the last thing you want is for him to have to go back to that place, but you have to think about what is best for him now. From what I hear, when he left the Hoag, he was in pretty bad shape and fading fast. He needs medical attention, Connor. He won't survive without a hospital and I think you know that as well as I do. Help us bring him in and I promise you, we will see to it that he gets the care that he needs to survive. If you won't do it for us, then do it for him, Connor. Do it for Murphy."

At that, Connor finally allowed his eyes to focus and he fixed his gaze on the man sitting in front of him. A moment ago he was numb, but now he felt tiny threads of anger begin to wrap their way around his heart. How dare these men come in here and suggest that he didn't know what was best for his brother. Connor trusted Edwards to do what was necessary to take care of Murphy. He was also fairly confident that his uncle was among the people behind the escape and he knew that Father Sibeal would look out for his twin. Connor would _always _do what was best for his brother and, in this situation, what was best for Murphy was staying out of prison.

Marshal Weston seemed to take Connor's small reaction as a good sign and kept talking, hoping that he was finally starting to break through to him. "You and Murphy are twins, right? I know you have to be missing him pretty badly right now. You two have probably spent most of your lives together and to have him ripped away, especially without knowing his fate, must be pretty hard on you. Help us find him and I will personally see to it that he is brought back to you and I will do everything in my power to make sure you are never split up again."

Connor felt a pang of sadness mixed with intense longing. He wanted to see Murphy so bad that it hurt. At this moment, he wished for nothing more than to hear his twin's voice and see for himself that he was still alive, but that wasn't an option. There was no way in hell he would even consider helping these men. He knew that the Marshal's promise was bullshit, even if they found Murphy, they would most likely split them up for good, put them in separate prisons to ensure this didn't happen again. Wherever Murphy was, he was better off there, no matter how much the possibility of never seeing him again tore through his heart.

Connor opened his mouth to speak and Marshal Weston sat up straighter in anticipation. "No offense Marshal, but you can go fuck yourself." The words were quiet and his voice raspy but there was no mistaking the resolve and determination in his tone.

Marshal Weston's face registered a hint of frustration but, before he could open his mouth to respond, his partner moved from his spot at the foot of the bed and stepped around so he could meet Connor's eyes. "You don't want to help us, MacManus, that's fine. We are going to find Murphy regardless of whether or not you work with us. However, if you choose not to help, we will make sure that, when we do find him, you will be separated from each other for the duration of your sentence."

Connor's eyes narrowed at the threat but he resisted the urge to react. Instead, he allowed the emotion to slowly leave his eyes as he turned his head in the opposite direction and stared blankly at the wall on the other side of the room, signifying the end of their conversation.

Garcia gave a frustrated sigh and turned back to his partner. "Let's go, we don't have time for this shit." He turned back to Connor's still form before continuing. "We have a fugitive to catch."

/ / /

Very slowly, like bubbles rising to the surface, Murphy began to return to consciousness. The first thing to work its way into his awareness was the distant sound of someone shouting and the noise drug him inch by inch back to the waking world. After the shouting, the next thing to register was the searing pain in his chest. It was a strange mix of a dull, throbbing ache and a searing, stabbing pain and the intensity of it caused him to groan softly.

"Murphy? Can you hear me?"

A familiar voice spoke up on Murphy's right side and he felt someone's hands running over his chest. Finally summoning up the strength, he was able to force his eyelids halfway open only to flinch away as the bright afternoon sun streaming through the window assaulted his eyes.

"Murphy?"

The voice came again and, turning his head, he squinted up, attempting to bring the person leaning over him into focus. "Doc?" As his vision cleared he was able to make out Dr. Schneider's friendly face and his mind raced to fill in the blanks.

The last thing he remembered was praying alongside his brother before pulling the trigger and feeling overcome with relief, then everything went black. Murphy assumed that his body must have finally given into his injuries and now he was recovering in the prison infirmary. Only, another quick glance around the room made him realize that this wasn't the infirmary. In fact, this didn't look like any room in the Hoag. There were no bars on the window and the bed beneath him was soft, comfortable even. This was definitely not the Hoag. Murphy suddenly found himself feeling uncomfortably disoriented as he realized he had no idea what had happened or where the hell he was. He turned back to Dr. Schneider with alarm and confusion written across his face. "What the hell happened, Doc? Where the fuck are we?" Murphy's throat was dry and he broke out into a small coughing fit.

Dr. Schneider saw the unsettled look in the man's eyes and rested a soothing hand across his forehead. "You're alright, Murphy, we're safe here."

The coughs subsided and Murphy attempted to push himself up on one elbow as his instinct to seek out his brother took over, but he was met with resistance as Dr. Schneider pressed his shoulders back into the bed. "Easy, Murphy. I need you to stay down. You were injured pretty badly last night, two broken ribs and a punctured lung. You suffered what is known as a tension pneumothorax. It means that air was escaping to slowly fill your chest until your lung could no longer expand. You stopped breathing and I had to make a small incision and insert a tube in between your ribs to drain the air. The tube needs to stay in place for the next two to three days until your lung is able to stay inflated on it's own."

Tilting his head up, Murphy glanced down at his chest and took in the dark purple and black bruises that covered his entire left side as well as the small tube protruding from in between his ribs. He let his head fall back to his pillow with a groan before covering his face with his hands. Well, that explained the pain in his chest, however, the longer he sat and thought the more confused he became. Lifting his hands he repeated his original question. "Doc, where the fuck are we?"

Dr. Schneider leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "We are in a safe house back in Boston, Southie to be exact. Some friends of yours have taken it upon themselves to arrange your early release."

The answers only brought up more questions and Murphy was having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea that they were no longer in the prison. "What? Who? Where the hell is Connor?" He just needed to talk to his brother; Connor would give him the answers he needed. Ignoring Dr. Schneider's protests, he fought to push himself back up onto his elbows and called out for his twin in hopes that he was simply in the next room. "Connor!"

"Murphy, please! You have to stay down!"

"Connor, get the fuck in here!" he called again, louder this time. The voices he had heard shouting from the other room when he first woke up finally went quiet and a few moments later, the door to the bedroom he was staying in opened slowly. Murphy looked over to see Officer Edwards step through the opening and his mouth opened in surprise. He was shocked to see the young man here and he couldn't help feeling like he had missed something huge.

Edwards looked Murphy over, appraising his condition, before turning to Dr. Schneider. "How long has he been awake?"

The doctor looked up from where he was attempting to coax his patient into laying back down and shook his head. "Not long, he just woke up a few minutes ago."

Edwards nodded before stepping fully into the room and moving to kneel at Murphy's side, putting him eyelevel with the injured man. "How are you feeling, Murphy?" he asked quietly.

Murphy ignored the question and pushed himself up further onto his arms, much to Dr. Schneider's displeasure. "Where the fuck is Connor?" he asked impatiently. Nobody seemed to want to answer that question for him and he began to get a sinking feeling in his gut. The shadow that passed over Edwards' eyes only deepened his suspicion.

Edwards cleared his throat nervously and averted his gaze. "I know that this whole situation must be pretty shocking but it wasn't safe to discuss any of this with you while you were still in custody. I am sure you have lots of questions-"

"There is only one question I need you to answer right now and that's where the hell is my brother?"

Edwards swallowed hard. "Connor is alive and he's okay. He is a little banged up but he's fine." He danced around the question, prolonging the inevitable for as long as possible.

"That's not what I fuckin' asked." Murphy's frustration was starting to get the better of him.

Edwards sighed and rocked back on his heels before raising his eyes back up to meet Murphy's fierce gaze. "The plan was to get you both out," he started slowly. "The breakout wasn't supposed to take place for another two weeks, however, when the riot started, we had to change things up. We knew you wouldn't survive the night if we left you to the mercy of the other inmates, so it was my job to find you and keep you safe until I could lead you out. But…" Edwards hesitated as if the next part was difficult and Murphy could see the guilt in the young man's eyes, "but I didn't find you in time. You lost your friend and, by the time I got to you, you were both injured pretty badly. After you and Connor took care of Maddox, you lost consciousness and your condition got worse. We had to change the plan. I had them send an ambulance and I was going to get you out of there by escorting you both to the hospital. Only, the ambulance wasn't going to the hospital, we were supposed to bring you both back here." He paused as he tried to work up the courage to finish the story. Murphy was watching him expectantly and with a trembling voice he pushed forward. "You were really bad off, Murphy. We loaded you into the ambulance first on the gurney and I was getting ready to put Connor in behind you when the Warden intervened. He decided he didn't want you both in the same ambulance in case anyone tried anything en route to the hospital. He…he sent me with you but he held Connor back to be escorted separately by another guard. I tried to get him to change his mind but you were failing too fast, if I didn't get you help right away you would have died. I had no choice, Murphy, I'm so sorry. I had to go, I had to leave him. I had no choice."

"Ya left 'em?" Murphy's quiet whisper was just as much an accusation as it was a question. His could feel his breathing speed up as his anger and grief overflowed. "Ya fuckin' left 'em?!" he demanded again, practically shouting this time as he lost the battle with his emotions. He knew that he had no right to blame Edwards for this; the kid had done nothing but try to help them. However, the intensity of his anguish knew no boundaries and he lashed out at the only person he could.

Edwards felt horrible. He had been dreading this moment and, now that it was here and he was face to face with Murphy's rage, he felt sick to his stomach. This was his fault, he had sworn to help these two men and he had failed them. "I'm so sorry, Murphy. I-I- there was no other choice, I'm so sorry." He stuttered through his apology before dropping his gaze down to his hands, afraid to meet the man's accusing glare.

If Connor had been there, he would have smacked Murphy over the head or made some sort of physical contact to let his brother know that he was about to speak without thinking, again. He would have whispered calm words until Murphy was able to get his temper back under control, but Connor wasn't here and there was no one else to pull him back from his emotional avalanche. "No other choice? No other fuckin' choice?! Ya should've just fuckin' left me there! I didn't ask for this! If ya couldn't get the both of us then ya shouldn't have even fuckin' bothered!"

Edwards flinched as if he had been slapped and Dr. Schneider took the opportunity to intervene. He knew that the young guard was already blaming himself for the way things went down and, while he understood Murphy's anger, Edwards didn't deserve the guilt that was being thrusted on to him. Placing a gentle but firm hand on Murphy's shoulder, he looked unflinchingly into the man's fiery blue eyes. "That's enough, Murphy." His tone was firm but his eyes reflected his gentle understanding. "This wasn't anyone's fault. Nobody was prepared for what happened last night in that prison. Edwards did the best he could with what he had to work with and I won't let you blame him for this."

Murphy glanced back and forth between the two men, looking like he wanted to explode again, but when his gaze settled on Edwards he stopped. The pain and self-condemnation he could see in the kid's eyes cooled his anger and made him regret his harsh words, but he was still left to deal with his choking devastation. Falling back onto his elbow, he pressed his palms into his eyes, warding off the tears that were threatening to spill over. "We have to get him out." Murphy's voice cracked and he cleared his throat before fixing Dr. Schneider and Edwards both with an open, pleading stare. "He can't fuckin' stay in there by himself, we have to get him out."

"We will."

The voice came from the doorway and all three men turned toward the newcomer. Murphy's eyes settled on the tall man standing at the open door and his mouth dropped open, his face registering complete shock.

"Smecker?"


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: **__I am sorry that this update has taken so long. I have been going through a bit of a rough spell where my writing is concerned. I am still not happy with this chapter, however, for my own sanity, I can't stand to spend any more time on it. I apologize if the writing is not up to par but I suppose this is what happens when you try to force it out. I would really appreciate some feedback after this. Just let me know your thoughts, good or bad, I would love to hear!_

Chapter 14

"Smecker?" Murphy stumbled over his thoughts, completely shocked by the sight of the man standing in front of him. He and Connor had grown fond of the FBI agent who had risked his career to join the Saints' cause and the news of his death had saddened them. Seeing him standing there, looking the same as he had the day they met him in the South Boston Police station, left him reeling. "How the fuck are you here? We were told ya were fuckin' dead!"

Smecker gave a half smile and stepped the rest of the way into the room. "No, not dead. Let's just say I heard a new calling that was taking me down a path that wasn't befitting of an FBI agent."

"Was this your doin'?" Murphy asked as he got over his shock. "Did ya organize this?"

Edwards stood and shuffled out of the way as Smecker moved in and took his place, kneeling down to Murphy's level. "You boys have a lot of work left to do," he said by way of an answer. Murphy frowned at him and shook his head but Smecker didn't give him a chance to speak. "We have a lot to discuss." He glanced over at Dr. Schneider. "Is he able to get up and move around a little bit?"

Dr. Schneider let out a defeated sigh. "I suppose, if he has help, it won't hurt, but you have to be very careful." He laid a serious gaze on the injured man. "Don't bump or jostle that tube in your side or we will have problems."

Smecker nodded and turned back to Murphy. "You heard the doctor. Now, there are some fresh clothes on the dresser over there and the bathroom is just down the hall on the right. We'll meet you out in the living room when you're ready."

"I'll stay and help him," Edwards offered quietly, without hesitation.

Murphy didn't object and Smecker nodded before gaining his feet and exiting the room with Dr. Schneider filing out behind him.

Edwards eyed Murphy, his expression a little sad, before stepping back over to the bed and reaching down a hand. "Come on, let's get you up."

Murphy nodded and, not meeting the young man's eyes, he allowed him to help him slowly into a sitting position. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he pushed himself to his feet only to sway unsteadily as his injured body protested the movement.

"Easy now," Edwards cautioned, catching Murphy's elbow as the man stumbled backwards.

With one hand on Edwards' shoulder, Murphy took a moment to steady himself before nodding at the young man. "I'm good. I got it."

Leaving the man standing on his own, Edwards crossed the short distance to the dresser in the corner of the room. Grabbing the clothes off the top, he stepped back to Murphy's side and tossed the clothes on the bed. "Here, hold onto me while you change." He held out his arm, motioning for the injured man to grab hold.

Murphy didn't bother arguing that he was fine on his own, he just gripped the kid's arm with one hand and used the other to slide out of the torn and bloody prison pants. Kicking the remainder of his inmate uniform into the corner, he snagged the clean pair of jeans off the bed and groaned at the ache in his side as he struggled to pull them on one handed. By the time he had them fastened around his waist he was sweaty and breathless. His broken ribs felt like a vice squeezing around his lungs. Motioning behind him, he silently asked for Edwards to lower him down to sit on the edge of the bed.

Edwards watched, his eyes full of concern, as Murphy squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at his injured side. "You okay? Should I get Dr. Schneider back in here?"

The young man was halfway to the door before Murphy could wave off the concern. "No, I'm fine. I'm okay, I just need a minute." It was a lie. He didn't feel fine. In fact, he was pretty sure he had never been this sore in his entire life, but he shoved the pain into the background. There were more important things to worry about right now, the most pressing of which was how in the hell they were going to get Connor out of custody.

Edwards nodded and stepped uncertainly back over to the bed, waiting for Murphy to catch his breath.

Murphy looked up, taking note of the young guard's forlorn expression and felt guilt start to simmer in his conscience. He had spoken harshly in his grief, lashing out unfairly at the young man, and his thoughtless words were echoing back to him now. "I'm sorry," he murmured quietly

Edwards knitted his brow in confusion. "Sorry? For what?"

"I had no right to blame ya for losin' Connor. Ya saved my life in that prison last night, more than once, and ya didn't deserve that from me. I was an ass and I'm sorry." Murphy kept his gaze open, hoping that the kid could see the regret in his eyes.

Edwards could read the sincerity behind the apology written across Murphy's face and knew that the man didn't blame him, however, his own guilt wouldn't let him off the hook so easily. "No, Murphy, you were right. I should have known they would split the two of you up. I should have found another way. I should have done _something!"_

Murphy let out a humorless, half-chuckle and shook his head. "Fuckin' Christ, you're as bad at this blaimin' and guilt shit as Connor is." Pushing himself slowly back to his feet, he took the young man's shoulder in a firm grip and gave it a little shake. "Ya did what you had to do and that's all there is to it. Now, I don't want to see you blaimin' yourself for this again, ya hear me?"

Edwards' eyes drifted down to his feet uncertainly before the grip on his shoulder tightened and he nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, I hear you," he mumbled before picking the black t-shirt up off the bed and offering it to Murphy who simply shook his head at the article of clothing.

"Don't think I can wear that while I got this stickin' outta me." He motioned to the small tube protruding from the side of his rib cage.

Edwards nodded and tossed the shirt back on the bed. "I'll help you to the bathroom and you can get yourself cleaned up a bit."

Murphy accepted the help as the young man slipped his arm across his back, supporting his weight as they hobbled down the carpeted hallway. Edwards stopped them when they reached the small bathroom and held the door so that the injured man could pass through on his own. "I'll be out here if you need help with anything."

Murphy grunted in response and gave a weak smile before closing the door softly behind him. He stood there for a few moments, one hand splayed on the closed door, the other gripping his injured ribs, and took a deep breath, attempting to will away the stabbing pain that was wrapping itself around his ribcage. Every breath felt like pure fire in his lungs but he forced himself to keep up the steady in and out rhythm until his pain fogged brain slowly cleared.

Pushing himself off the door, he stumbled over to the sink and grabbed the edge of the counter to steady himself. He kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the washbasin below him, afraid of what the mirror hanging in front of him would reveal. He knew that he had taken a pretty severe beating and the evidence of which would be displayed clearly on his face. The memories of the horrible events that took place last night were still too fresh in his mind and his injuries just served as an excruciatingly painful reminder of how fucked up things had gotten. Clenching the edge of the counter till his knuckles turned white, he finally forced his eyes up to meet his reflection.

Murphy inhaled a shaky breath as he took in the battered face that was staring back at him. It was obvious that someone had made an effort clean him up and tend his wounds but there was still a fair amount of dried blood crusted in his dark hair and along the sides of his face. With a trembling hand he reached over to snag the clean washcloth that was sitting on the edge of the counter and soaked it under the faucet before bringing it up and gently scrubbing at the remaining blood. The rag came away stained red and he rinsed it under the cool water, watching, entranced, as the water in the sink turned crimson and slowly swirled down the drain. Wringing out the rag, he lifted it back up to his face and winced as he dabbed at a large laceration above his left eyebrow. He remembered getting the injury, remembered the feel of Maddox's angry fist as it slammed into his head over and over again.

Murphy stared hard at his reflection and each visible injury, the swollen cheekbone, his bruised nose, his split lip; they all brought back the pain, fear and anger that were still raw from the night before. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the memories only to snap them open again when his mind haunted him with images of Romeo's lifeless eyes. He heard Maddox's voice in his head as the man forced Connor to make an impossible choice. Murphy clamped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the phantom voices, but it didn't help. Maddox's voice was replaced by Connor's as he remembered the desperation with which his twin begged for his and Romeo's life. He couldn't remember ever hearing his brother sound so broken and desperate and it was a sound that would haunt his dreams for years.

Murphy slammed his hands down on the counter in frustration as his memories continued to assault him. It was killing him knowing that Connor was still in custody. After such a disturbing experience and the loss of yet another friend, Murphy needed his twin here to help him heal, to help each other heal. He knew that, wherever Connor was, he was alone and undoubtedly still blaming himself for everything that had happened and that thought broke Murphy's heart.

Giving up on his face, he dropped the rag in the sink and turned off the water before lowering himself down onto the toilet lid and burying his face in his hands. His breathing sped up until he couldn't hold it back any longer and his shoulders began shaking with uncontrolled sobs. _ This is so fucked!_ He thought to himself as he scrubbed vigorously at his face.

He allowed himself a few moments to break down before forcefully pulling himself back together. He took deep breaths until the tremors stopped and wiped away a stray tear with the back of his hand before gaining his feet and moving back to the mirror. Turning on the faucet, he cupped his hands beneath the water before bringing them up to splash himself in the face. The cool water felt amazing on his swollen injuries and he repeated the action several more times before turning the faucet off and drying his hands on a towel hanging by the sink. Taking another steadying breath, he gave his reflection one more hard glance before moving back to the door.

When Murphy opened the door, Edwards straightened up from where he was leaning against the wall and moved forward, preparing to help. "Ready?" he asked, offering up a sympathetic look as he took in the man's red rimmed eyes.

Murphy nodded mutely and, keeping a steadying hand on the wall, he allowed Edwards to lead him down the hall toward the sound of quiet voices. The end of the hallway opened up into a decent sized living room, which held a couch, a couple of chairs and a T.V.. Glancing around the room, Murphy took in the handful of people occupying the living space and was surprised to find that he recognized all but two of the faces in the group. Dr. Schneider and Smecker were both sitting in chairs on one side of the room and taking up the long couch on the other side were Dolly, Duffy and Father Sibeal. The two men that Murphy didn't recognize were standing next to each other in the doorway of the kitchen that branched off from the living room.

Edwards stopped them at the entrance to the living room but everyone's attention remained focused on the T.V. and no one seemed to notice their approach. Murphy stiffened when he saw the headline of the news report that had captured everyone's attention so fully. 'Violent Riot Leads to Missing Saint,' read the banner running along the bottom of the screen. A report was being delivered by a pretty little brunette clutching a microphone out front of the Hoag and Murphy held his breath as he tuned into what she was saying.

"_With the help of the National Guard, as well as the state police, the uprising was finally quelled and peace restored around 6:45 this morning. It is unclear what provoked the rebellion, although, evidence suggests that it was organized by a group of inmates as an attempt to seek retribution on the Saints of South Boston who were incarcerated here a little over a month ago. The Saints, who we now know as Connor and Murphy MacManus, were escorted out of the prison early this morning and taken in separate ambulances to receive medical attention, although the nature of their injuries remains unknown. We have recently received word that the ambulance transporting Murphy MacManus was found abandoned just outside of Boston. A citywide manhunt is underway for the missing Saint, as well as this gentleman pictured below." _A picture of, what appeared to be, Edwards' prison I.D. photo, popped up in the bottom corner of the screen. _"Officer Joshua Edwards, a prison guard at the Hoag, had been charged with escorting Mr. MacManus to the hospital and has now been listed as an accomplice to his escape."_

Murphy glanced sidelong at Edwards who was staring down at the ground, an unreadable expression on his face. Seeing now, just how much the young man had sacrificed to help him and Connor, caused him to feel another stab of guilt over his harsh words earlier. The kid had given up his life for them. Murphy shook his head in sadness at this realization before the reporter's voice drew his attention back on the T.V.

A mug shot that had been taken of Murphy the day he was processed and booked flashed in the other corner of the screen. It was the first time an actual picture of one of the Saints had been released to the media and it left him with a sick feeling in his gut.

"_If anyone has any information or has seen either of these individuals, please contact the local U.S. Marshals office using the number on your screen."_ Both the photos and the number remained on the screen as the women continued with her report. "_No official statement has been given on the events that took place inside the prison overnight, but we have received word that the final body count has reached twenty seven. Counted among the dead was Romeo Suarez who had been arrested and taken into custody along with the Saints as a third member of the vigilante team…."_ Murphy felt a pang of sorrow as a picture of his friend was paraded briefly across the screen and he had to squeeze his eyes shut as memories of the night before threatened to overwhelm him again. Edwards seemed to pick up on his distress and cleared his throat loudly, giving away their presence.

Smecker looked back at them before immediately reaching for the remote and switching the T.V. off. "Murphy," he stood from his seat and ushered them into the room. "Please, come in."

Still leaning heavily on Edwards' shoulder, Murphy stepped out of the hall into the room and glanced around hesitantly at the faces, which had all turned in his direction. His focus finally settled on his uncle who, upon seeing his nephew, had gained his feet and made his way over.

"Murphy," Father Sibeal placed an affectionate hand on the side of Murphy's face, his eyes scanning worriedly over his injuries. "It's good to see ya up an' around. We were worried about ya, lad."

Murphy placed a hand over his uncle's and nodded with a small smile. "Thank ya Father," was all he could think to say.

Father Sibeal patted his cheek and gave him a sad smile. "Don't ya worry about Connor, lad. We're goin' to get him back, we won't be leavin' 'em behind."

Murphy looked into the older man's eyes, trying to draw strength from the certainty he saw there, before giving another small nod and allowing his uncle to take up his other arm and help lead him into the living room. As they entered, Dolly and Duffy stood from their places on couch and smiled a warm welcome as Murphy approached their position.

"MacManus!" Duffy greeted with enthusiasm. "We're relieved to see you out of that place, man. You both deserve better than that."

Murphy shook the man's extended hand and gave him a small grin. "I suppose I have you all to thank for my early release, now don't I?" Honestly, he was more than a little surprised to find the two homicide detectives here. He had figured, after how badly the Saints had failed Greenly, that Dolly and Duffy would be just as happy to see him and Connor rot in jail for the rest of their lives. It was nice to know that their friends were still on their side.

Dolly stepped up and gave him a gentle pat on the back. "We didn't do much but we owed it to you to help where we could. We are going to do everything we can to help get Connor back as well."

Murphy nodded his appreciation and gave the man's shoulder a squeeze before moving past him to the now empty couch. Father Sibeal and Edwards lowered him very gently down onto the cushion in the middle before each taking a seat on either side of him.

Dr. Schneider stood and quickly crossed the room to kneel in front of Murphy so he could check on his patient. "You still feeling alright? Any shortness of breath?"

Murphy winced and bit back a grimace as the doctors fingers traced over the tender incision area. "Aye, maybe a bit. Nothin' like last night, though. Mainly just sore now."

Dr. Schneider nodded and withdrew his hand once he was satisfied that the tube hadn't been dislodged during his trek from the bedroom to the living room. "That's good, you can expect some soreness in your lungs and chest and those broken ribs may make it painful to breathe, but if it gets any worse you need to let me know right away. Lung traumas can take a good amount of time to heal, but once we are able to remove that tube I can tape up your ribs to keep them stabilized. I have to head out to the prison here in a bit to help deal with the fallout from last night and I can pick up some painkillers for you on my way back, if you'd like."

"I appreciate it, doc, but I'd rather not. Need to keep a clear head 'n all." Murphy declined the offer but gave him a warm smile to let the doctor know that he was thankful for everything he had done to help him.

"Alright then, just make sure you keep taking it easy, okay?" Murphy nodded in agreement and Dr. Schneider gave him a pat on the knee before moving back to his chair and taking a seat.

Murphy swallowed nervously as the room grew uncomfortably quiet and all eyes seemed to be turned expectantly onto him. Clearing his throat, he glanced around at the people who had all worked so hard to get him out of that hellhole. "So, what the fuck do we do now?" he asked, hoping to get right down to business.

Leaning forward in his chair, Smecker ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "Our first priority is to get to Connor-"

"I'm sorry Smecker, but… do you really think that's the best idea right now?"

The voice came from one of the strange men standing against the kitchen door frame and Murphy snapped his head up to glare at the man. "And who the fuck are you?" he asked defensively.

Smecker held his hand up and glanced back at the man who had spoken before returning his gaze to Murphy. "I suppose I should have made introductions earlier. Murphy, this is Pete Cooper and the gentleman standing next to him is Phillip Tucker. They are old friends from the Bureau. We wouldn't have gotten as far as we have without their help and resources."

Murphy eyed the two men warily, not entirely at ease with their presence. They both appeared to be in their mid to late thirties and they looked friendly enough, but he was uncomfortable with the idea of two federal agents knowing so much about him and Connor's situation. However, he did trust Smecker and if his friend was willing to bring them in on this then surely they had to be trustworthy.

Turning back to Cooper, Smecker raised an eyebrow and addressed the other man's earlier concerns. "You have something else in mind, Cooper?"

Pushing off the wall, the man took a step closer to the former FBI agent, pointedly avoiding Murphy's narrowed eyes. "Things are really hot in the city right now, I'm not sure it's wise to make another attempt so soon."

Murphy felt a surge of anger at what he thought this stranger was suggesting and he interrupted forcefully before Smecker had a chance to respond. "We aren't even fuckin' havin' this conversation! We're not fuckin' leavin' 'em! We get Connor before we do _anythin'_ else."

Cooper shook his head, finally turning in Murphy's direction. "I don't think you fully understand the situation here, man. You are currently the subject of an all hands on deck, large-scale manhunt. This city is being torn apart to find you. We have no idea where your brother is being held and, even if we did, I can guarantee he is being watched like a fucking hawk. Attempting anything right now would be insane."

Murphy set his jaw and stared hard at the other man. "We're not fuckin' leavin' 'em," he repeated in a firm tone.

Cooper released a loud, frustrated sigh and ran a hand roughly through his short, sandy brown hair. "Look man, I'm not suggesting we abandon him completely, I just think we should wait a while. Let's just give it a few months to let the heat die down, then we can come up with a new plan."

Murphy knew he should be expressing gratitude toward this man for the risks he took trying to help them escape, but, at the moment, all he wanted to do was scream in his face. "A few months? A few fuckin' months?! He can't stay in there by himself for a few months! Ya have no idea the way they look at us in there. Without anyone watchin' his back, he'll be picked off within a week. I won't just sit around and let that fuckin' happen." Murphy felt his anger rising quickly and forced himself to take a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm down.

Cooper took a few steps forward and Murphy tensed in his seat. "Alright then, you seem to have all the answers, what do you suggest we do?"

Leaning forward on the couch, Murphy matched the FBI agent's intensity. "We fuckin' find out where they're keepin' him and we go after 'em now," he said it as if the answer were obvious.

Cooper shook his head and laughed humorlessly to himself. "Great idea," the statement was dripping with sarcasm. "No wonder you guys got caught," he added quietly but still loud enough that Murphy could easily hear him.

That was the last straw. Growling under his breath, Murphy moved to launch himself off of the couch. Edwards' hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder at the same time Smecker's loud voice filled the room.

"Hey, that's enough! Come on guys, we're on the same friggin' side here!" He turned to Murphy who was still glaring openly at Cooper. "Murphy, I told you we would get Connor out and we will. We have no intention of leaving him behind I promise you that. Pete," he shifted in his chair so he could address his friend, "you know I trust your judgment and I value your opinion but Murphy is right on this one." Cooper shook his head in exasperation but Smecker pressed on. "We know that Connor was being taken to a hospital and we know that he will most likely be kept there for at least 48 hours, maybe longer, depending on his condition. This is going to be our best opportunity to get to him. It will be much easier breaking him out of a hospital than it will be trying to get him out of a super max, and you can be damn sure that is where he will be headed after last night." Lowering his voice, he softened his expression. "This is our chance and we have to take it, however, I would understand if you felt that you needed to step away from this. You and Tucker have already helped us more than enough and I know you both have more than just your jobs at risk here. I won't fault you if you walk away now."

The room grew quiet as the two FBI agents considered their options. Cooper looked back and forth hesitantly between Murphy and Smecker as if he was weighing his loyalties with the risks, before nodding his head with a defeated sigh. "No, I'm with you," he stated quietly.

Smecker nodded before looking expectantly at Tucker, who had yet to weigh in on the subject.

The other agent appeared to be deep in thought for a moment before giving a definitive nod. "Stuck with your prissy ass this long, might as well finish the job," he said with a knowing smirk.

"Alright then," Smecker looked pleased as he leaned back into his chair and crossed his legs, "first thing we need to do is figure out where he is being held."

Dr. Schneider cleared his throat and raised his hand slightly. "I think I can answer that for you." He spoke quietly, almost hesitantly, and Smecker raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. Leaning forward in his chair, Dr. Schneider rubbed his hands together nervously and looked around the room as if he wasn't sure he should be saying this. "At the prison, if an inmate is injured to the point of needing a hospital, he will be taken to one of two places. If the injury is immediately life threatening, he will be taken to the closest, outer-county hospital to the prison, however, if his life is not in immediate danger, they will take the extra time to have him transferred to Mass. Gen. here in Boston. It is a bigger hospital with higher security," he explained.

"Connor was pretty bad off last I saw him but he wasn't so injured that it would be deemed an emergency."

Murphy looked over at Edwards, who had offered up the information, before glancing back to the doctor. "So is it safe to assume, then, that he was brought into the city?" he asked.

Dr. Schneider nodded. "I already made a few phone calls to confirm it." He shook his head at himself as if he couldn't believe that he had done it. "I completed my residency at MGH and still have a lot of connections there. Also, as the primary physician at the Hoag, Connor is technically my patient, making it easy for me to have access to both him and his records."

Murphy felt a spark of hope at this information. "How is he, did they say?" The question left his lips before he could even consciously process it.

"He was described to me as difficult and uncooperative. I was told he was being kept heavily sedated to prevent injury to himself or others." Dr. Schneider offered a sympathetic look at the pain that crossed Murphy's face. "Physically, however, he is going to be fine. His CT revealed a mild concussion and they plan on keeping him overnight for observation. The rest of his injuries were minor cuts and bruises, some of which required stitches."

Murphy looked down at his hands and swallowed against the lump in his throat. It killed him to know that his brother was so mentally distressed that the doctors were forced to sedate him. The thought of Connor lying in a hospital bed, drugged senseless and alone, brought on an angry ache in his heart.

"My question for you Doc, is just how involved are you willing to get here?" Smecker's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked expectantly to Dr. Schneider for his answer.

The doctor let out a heavy sigh and buried his head in his hands, scrubbing roughly at his face. The man's internal struggle was obvious and Smecker spoke quietly in an attempt to help him solve his moral dilemma.

"I know how hard this choice is. I was in your position once, stuck between my oath to uphold the law and what my heart told me was the right thing to do. What these boys do is necessary, it's right, and I know, deep down, you believe that. You wouldn't be here if you didn't."

Dr. Schneider removed his hands and looked Smecker in the eye, trying to read the truth in what the former agent was saying.

"You're our best chance to get this done and get these boys back to doing what they do best. Protecting the innocent and delivering _true_ justice." Smecker leaned back in his chair. "That is all I am going to say. You know the risks that come with helping us and this has to be your decision."

Dr. Schneider looked so torn that it pulled at Murphy's heart. He had grown to like the doctor and hated to see the man put himself at risk on their behalf, but, he knew that he was their best hope at getting in to the hospital and making it back out with Connor. His need to have his brother back was stronger than anything else and he held his breath as he waited for the man to make his decision.

The room remained blanketed in a tense silence for several long moments until finally Dr. Schneider raised his eyes to Murphy's and he gave a slow nod. "Alright… I'll help you."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: _I'm here! I haven't abandoned you, I promise! I know this update was a long time coming but, seeing as how this wasn't actually a part of my original storyline, it was kind of difficult to write. It's done now, though, and I hope you all enjoy it. It's a long one! A little side note, I actually did quite a bit of research on Massachusetts General Hospital for this chapter and I tried to keep most of my descriptions of the hospital close to the truth. I may have used the good ol' artistic license in a few places but, for the most part, it should be pretty accurate. One more thing before I let you get on with the story, we are nearing the end here. We have one, possibly two more chapters left of this thing. I just wanted to throw that in there in case some of you wanted a heads up. I have been working on mapping out a possible sequel but we can discuss that later. Alright, I'm done. Enjoy!_**

Chapter 15

U.S. Marshal Charlie Weston stormed past the police barricade and pushed his way angrily through the main entrance of Massachusetts General Hospital. He was on a warpath and someone was going to pay for allowing this to happen. This hospital was supposed to be secure. There were supposed to be guards posted at every exit, yet somehow Connor MacManus had managed to slip through the cracks. This was a fucking disaster.

The hospital lobby was in a state of chaos and the Chief of Police intercepted him as he marched his way inside. "What the fuck happened here, Chief? You want to explain to me how in the hell that prisoner managed to escape out from under the nose of half your department?"

The police chief held up his hands as if he were trying to shield himself from the Marshal's anger. "We were spread too thin, Marshal. The damn protesters were getting out of control; we almost had a full-blown riot on our hands. I was forced to pull some of my men away from their posts to help take care of the mob, but the prisoner was being cared for by the doctors and was never left alone."

"How did the protesters know he was even here? Who leaked his location?"

The Chief shrugged and shook his head. "An anonymous call was made to a local news station. I already have some of my tech guys trying to track down where the call came from, they will let me know if they find anything."

Weston let out a growl of frustration and combed his fingers through his hair. "Fine, I expect to be kept updated. I need to know the minute they have something."

"You think it's related?"

Weston raised an eyebrow, "You don't?" The Chief shrugged again. "I assure you, Chief, this was no coincidence. Now, where can I find the doctors who were with the prisoner before he disappeared?"

The police chief turned around and pointed toward a man who was sitting in a chair with a nurse kneeling in front of him, dabbing at a large cut on the side of his head. "That is Dr. Aaron Schneider, he is the head physician at the Hoag. He claims that he was here checking on his patient. This whole mess happened when the doctor there took Mr. MacManus down to radiology for a follow up CT scan. On his way down to the lower levels of the building, he supposedly encountered a man who held him at gunpoint and forced him down onto lower level one, which is where the loading docks are located, also the only exit that wasn't being guarded due to it being locked from the inside. The hospital security staff said they watched on the outdoor cameras as three armed men entered through the truck bays and left a few moments later with the prisoner. By the time a security team made it down there they were gone and Dr. Schneider was left, knocked out cold on the floor, bleeding from a gash on his head."

"Did the cameras get a good look at the vehicle they left in?"

"A black SUV, make and model unknown, we um…" the Chief cleared his throat nervously, "we couldn't make out the license number either, they were smart and covered the plates."

Weston threw his hands up in frustration. "Damn it! Of course they did!" He turned away trying to get a hold of his anger before spinning back to the Chief. "Have you spoken to the staff on duty? Did anybody see anything?"

The Chief shook his head again, hating that he didn't have any good news to deliver. "I'm afraid not. Whoever it was that snuck in here may as well have been a fucking ghost because the only man who saw him is sitting over there with a head injury." He motioned back over to where Dr. Schneider was now getting a bandage wrapped around his head.

Marshal Weston looked over at the doctor through narrowed eyes and gave the Chief a small nod before stalking over to the injured man. "Dr. Schneider?" he asked as he approached, waiting for the doctor to look up before offering a friendly hand. "I'm U.S. Marshal Charlie Weston, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Dr. Schneider shook the man's outstretched hand and shrugged. "Sure, but I already told the cops everything I know."

"And I will be sure to consult with them later, however, this is my investigation and it is important that I have all of my facts straight. I won't take up much of your time, I just have a few things I would like to clear up with you while it's still fresh in your mind."

Dr. Schneider nodded and motioned for him to continue.

"Great," he flashed the doctor a winning smile. "So, first off, would you mind explaining to me what you were doing here tonight?"

"I was checking on my patient," Dr. Schneider said it as if it should have been obvious. "I may work at the prison, Marshal, but Connor MacManus is still my patient and, in the interest of being able to efficiently continue his medical treatment once he is transferred back to the Hoag, I decided it would be best to oversee his care here as well."

"And how often do you take such a dedicated interest in your patients? Do you go so far out of your way for all the inmates under your care?" he asked innocently.

"I'll admit, this isn't a typical thing for me to do but I felt that, after the extreme trials Mr. MacManus faced last night, it would be best if I checked on him personally."

Weston rubbed his clean-shaven jaw line thoughtfully. "Hmm, what about the two dozen other inmates who were injured in the uprising last night? Are they going to get a personal visit as well?"

Dr. Schneider narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in his chair. "Is there something you would like to ask me, Marshal?"

"I am just trying to figure out your motivation for driving all the way into the city to check on a patient who was not suffering a life threatening injury and is being treated at one of the highest ranked hospitals on the east coast." He could see the doctor growing more defensive as he spoke and Weston let out a sigh. "Look, as I am sure you are aware, the Saints of South Boston have developed quite a following. There has already been one corrupted member of the prison staff and I want to make sure that he was the only one. I am just trying to get you to help me understand your reasoning. Surely you can see how your actions may seem suspicious to me."

Dr. Schneider looked the other man in the eye and sat up straighter in his chair. "I was held at gunpoint, Marshal. I was smashed over the head and left lying unconscious on the ground. Does it sound like I was a willing participant to you? The only reason I came here to check on Mr. MacManus was because of my concern for not only his physical health but his mental health, as well. I had heard he was being a rather difficult patient so I decided to come here in hopes of being able to settle him so we could care for him properly. The MacManus boys both spent a fair amount of time in my infirmary, during which I had the opportunity to develop a good working relationship with them. I was hoping that, given our past experiences together, I would have better luck getting Connor to respond." Pushing upward he stood stiffly from his chair, putting himself eye level with the marshal. "I realize that my actions may seem suspicious, but I assure you that I had no part in this. Connor and Murphy MacManus are criminals and I would never support the things they have done. Murder goes against everything I stand for as a doctor and is something I would never condone, no matter their reasons."

Marshal Weston stared steadily into the doctor's eyes, attempting to find any deception in his words. The things he said made sense but something still felt off about the whole thing. One of the things that made him so damn good at his job was his sixth sense ability to detect when he was being fed a line bullshit and that sense was ringing warning bells at him now, telling him that something wasn't right here. However, he couldn't prove anything yet so he would simply have to keep digging until he got to the truth, and he would, of that he had no doubt.

Nodding slowly he pulled a card out of his back pocket and handed it to Dr. Schneider. "I meant no offense doctor, just doing my job. Call me at this number if you can think of anything that you may have left out the statement you gave the police."

Dr. Schneider accepted the card and turned to walk away but Weston called to him once more. "And Dr. Schneider?" The doctor turned back to face him again. "Don't plan any trips for a while, I am going to want to chat with you again soon." Dr. Schneider didn't respond before walking off and Weston watched him go. Something definitely wasn't right.

/ / /

Two Hours Earlier

Tightening his grip on the steering wheel of his silver BMW, Dr. Schneider glanced in the rear-view mirror, seeking out the headlights of the SUV that was carrying the other four members of the rescue mission. He spotted them a few cars behind and returned his eyes to the front, taking a deep breath to calm his jittery nerves. They had agreed that driving separately would draw less attention and seeing as how he was supposed to be there on official doctor business, it was best if he appeared to be alone.

Aaron Schneider would never have described himself as an impulsive risk taker. Even as a child, he was never a daring, tree climbing, knee scraping, rowdy troublemaker. He listened to his parents and did as he was told, comfortable in the safety of those boundaries. In high school he passed up a place on the football field, choosing instead to join the debate team. It was safer; less risk. Through out college and med school he was an exemplary student, top of his class and, aside from a few special occasions, he never took part in the standard college parties or stereotypical, overindulgence of alcohol. He didn't want to risk the effect that would have on his academics.

Although most of Aaron's life was spent walking on the safe side of the line between unnecessary risk and responsible choices, there had been a few unexplained times in his life where he ended up doing the exact opposite of what his caution conscious mind instructed him to do by making an uncharacteristically risky decision. One of those times was when he ignored his family's insistence that he was throwing away his medical degree by going from his safe, respectable job at Massachusetts General Hospital, to patching up violent criminals at the Hoag Maximum Security Prison.

He still to this day could not say what exactly had possessed him to make such an extreme and impulsive career decision, although, he knew it probably had something to do with his desire to reorganize his life after the bitter divorce his wife forced him through. Now, ten years later, here he was, ignoring his brain's instincts to turn away from the dangerous, high-risk situation and continuing his headlong rush toward the point of no return.

After making his decision, agreeing to help with 'Operation MacManus', he, along with the rest of the group, had sat around for the better part of the day, discussing and preparing a plan for getting Connor to freedom. It was decided that both Edwards and, of course, Murphy would remain behind in the safe house along with Smecker. There had been some disagreement from both Murphy and Edwards on the subject but in the end the decision was a no-brainer. Even if Murphy had been physically capable of going, with the way his and Edwards faces had been plastered across every media source in the Boston area, they were guaranteed to be identified. Leaving the safety of their South Boston apartment was not an option. That left the task up to Dr. Schneider, Smecker's friends Cooper and Tucker, and Dolly and Duffy.

Dr. Schneider knew from his previous experience at MGH that, with such a high profile prisoner in the building, the hospital security would be fully staffed and on high alert. Local law enforcement would most likely have their own security detail in place, as well, making it discouragingly impossible to sneak anyone in or out of the large hospital. Several hours of brainstorming possible solutions led them to the conclusion that the only way through the many layers of security would be to thin them out and draw them away from their posts using some form of a distraction. After a long debate on just what that distraction should be, Edwards managed to come up with the perfect solution and Smecker immediately sent Duffy out to make an anonymous phone call to the local news station, releasing the name of the hospital where Connor was being treated, setting the plan in motion.

Dr. Schneider wiped his sweat-slicked palms off on his thigh before returning them to the leather steering wheel and directing his car down the street past the front of the hospital. He let out a small sigh of relief when he saw the large group of protesters and Saint supporters lining the sides of the street in front of the building. It looked like half of the hospital security team was lined up in front of the entrance and a rather large number of police officers had their hands full attempting to disperse the crowd, hauling away some of the more aggressive demonstrators in handcuffs. The plan had worked.

He located the SUV in his rear-view mirror one last time before turning into the parking garage across the street from the main entrance. He drove up to the second level of the structure before parking in an empty spot and killing the engine. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the black SUV swung into a spot several spaces down and the men inside sat, waiting for him to make his move.

Dr. Schneider let out a deep sigh before pushing open his car door and stepping out into the chilly, dimly- lit garage. Slamming his door shut, he made his way to the elevator that would return him to the ground level of the structure where he would have to cross the street to get to the main building. As he passed by the SUV he gave a small, barely perceptible nod to Cooper who was watching him from the passenger seat.

The plan was for Dr. Schneider to go in alone and gain access to Connor and, if everything went right, the other four men wouldn't even have to enter the building. Radiology was located on lower level three, if he could make up a reason to have Connor taken back down for another CT then he was hoping they could slip out through the loading docks which were on lower level one. The loading docks were used for the distribution of hospital supplies and materials and was relatively unguarded unless there was a delivery being made, which, at this time of night, was highly unlikely. It was their best chance to make it out unnoticed.

After getting Connor isolated, the four men standing by in the SUV would drive around and take the man from there. Once they were gone, Dr. Schneider had the hard part of staying behind and attempting to sell a cover story that would cover his own tracks. As much as he wanted to help the MacManus brothers, he wasn't ready to throw his entire life away and join Edwards on the most wanted list. If there was any way for him to maintain his cover then he had to try.

Passing up the SUV, Dr. Schneider walked across the garage to the elevator and stepped inside. Pushing the ground level button, he fidgeted anxiously with his car keys in his pocket as the doors slid closed. To say that he was nervous would have been a massive understatement. His heart felt as if it were going to beat clean out of his chest and the fluttering in his stomach left him feeling nauseous. Part of him wanted to run back to his car and speed away from this whole mess, but he knew that wasn't an option anymore. He was already dedicated and his sense of loyalty wouldn't allow him to turn his back on the Saints now.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and Dr. Schneider stepped out and made his way to the parking garage exit. The street beyond was packed with protesters whose numbers only continued to grow. The amped up energy of the crowd was increasing in intensity and he quickly made his way through the throngs of people toward the hospital entrance. Once he reached the door, he flashed an ID badge at the security guards who quickly allowed him through their barricade.

As soon as he pushed open the doors and entered the building he realized that the energy inside the hospital was just as tense as it was outside. The increasing number of protesters was making the staff noticeably nervous. The woman at the front desk was holding a phone between her shoulder and ear as she shuffled through a stack of papers in front of her and she looked up from her task to flash him a tight smile. He gave a quick nod in return before making his way to the elevator along the edge of the lobby. After pressing the button he stepped back and returned his hand to his pocket to resume fiddling with his keys as he waited. He had to resist the urge to glance nervously around him, not wanting to appear suspicious or overly jitter. Instead, he forced himself to take a deep calming breath as he watched the light jump from floor to floor, tracking the elevators progress. When the light reached the lobby floor the doors slid open and he waited for the elevator to empty before stepping inside.

The patient rooms were located on levels six thru ten of the giant fourteen level building. Dr. Schneider was unsure of where exactly Connor was being held so he pushed the button for the sixth floor, figuring he would start there and find out what he needed to know.

The ride up felt like an eternity and Dr. Schneider cursed silently every time the elevator came to a stop to pick up more people. He was anxious to get this over with and when the doors finally opened up on the sixth floor he stepped quickly out into the hall and walked as confidently as possible toward the nearest nurses' station. The woman at the desk was focused intently on the computer screen in front of her and her fingers flew over the keyboard with a speed that suggested years of practice. Dr. Schneider leaned against the desk and waited patiently for the nurse to acknowledge his presence.

"Can I help you with something, honey?" she asked without breaking her gaze away from the computer.

Dr. Schneider cleared his throat and drummed his fingers anxiously on the countertop. "Yeah, I'm looking for a patient of mine who was transferred here, I was hoping you could point me in the right direction."

"Last name?" The woman's eyes remained glued to the screen in front of her.

"MacManus."

At that, the nurse's hands went still and she finally glanced up at him with suspicious eyes. "Who did you say you were?"

Dr. Schneider repressed a sigh and dug into his pocket to retrieve his Hoag staff ID. "Dr. Aaron Schneider, I am the chief physician at Hoag Maximum Security Prison. Connor MacManus is my patient and I am here to check on him. I was hoping you could tell me what room he is in." He slid his ID across the counter and watched expectantly as the woman picked it up and examined it closely.

Apparently satisfied with what you saw, she passed the ID back and returned her focus to her computer. "Alright, honey, just give me a second here."

Dr. Schneider nodded and resumed drumming his fingers as he waited.

"Aaron?"

Turning around at the sound of his name, Dr. Schneider's eyes came to rest on a familiar face standing behind him. He smiled wide in a surprised greeting and wrapped the man in a quick embrace. "Well, if it isn't the famous Dr. Pyle!" Giving the man a pat on the back, he stepped back and looked him over. "It's been a while, how've you been?"

The other man returned the bright smile and clapped a friendly hand on Dr. Schneider's shoulder. "Doing alright, can't complain. Honestly, not much has changed since you left. Still slaving away day and night in this place with no hope of ever having an actual life."

Dr. Schneider smiled in understanding. He was very well aware of the way the hospital could take over every aspect of your life. It had cost him his marriage along with more than a few friendships.

"So, what are you doing here? You finally ready to reclaim your old job? I was wondering how long it was going to take you to come to your senses, although, I will admit, I didn't think it would take ten years."

Dr. Schneider could detect a hint of bitterness in his friend's tone and he felt a small stab of guilt. He knew that he had ruffled a few feathers when he decided to leave the five star hospital for a job at a maximum-security prison and apparently his friend was no exception. Mason Pyle had been his roommate all through med school and well into their residency years and Dr. Schneider knew that the man had felt abandoned when he up and quit his job with almost no warning. "I'm not here for a job," he said quietly. "I'm just checking on a patient of mine who was brought in here early this morning."

Dr. Pyle's face registered a moment of disappointment before dissolving into a look of realization. "You're here to see the Saint, aren't you?"

Dr. Schneider nodded but didn't miss the hint of disdain in his friend's voice when he mentioned the vigilante.

"I have been overseeing his treatment since his arrival and I assure you he is going to be just fine. Well," another look of disgust crossed Dr. Pyle's face, "as fine as a serial killer could possible be. The guy's got more than a few screws loose, but medically he is in no danger."

Dr. Schneider frowned at the description of Connor's mental state but reigned in any further displeasure. "I believe you and you know I trust your judgment as a doctor, but I am already here, I might as well stop in and check on him," he said, attempting to appear as casual as possible.

Dr. Pyle shrugged. "Suit yourself. He is up on seven; I can take you to his room but good luck getting any kind of reaction out of him. He refused to stop fighting us when he was brought in and I was forced to sedate and restrain him. He hasn't responded to anything since, not even to eat or drink. The Marshals paid him a visit, I imagine questioning him about his brother, but I don't think they got anything out of him. The guy seems to have lost it completely, if he ever had it to begin with."

Dr. Schneider felt a pang of sadness for the emotional pain that Connor must be experiencing and had a suddenly strong desire to defend the man's seemingly irrational behavior. "Connor MacManus went through hell last night. He and his brother had been fighting to stay alive in that prison from the day they arrived then had to spend an entire night caught in the middle of a violent riot. He lost a friend and his brother in that mess so I can understand if he isn't exactly in the most receptive state of mind, but I assure you, he's not crazy."

Dr. Pyle raised a curious eyebrow at his friend. "Not crazy? He's a serial killer, Aaron, I'm pretty sure crazy is a prerequisite for that title."

Dr. Schneider took a moment to look at his friend before shrugging non-committally. "Yeah, maybe so," was all he said. A short, slightly awkward silence followed and Dr. Schneider cleared his throat to break the tension. "So, you said he's the next level up?"

Dr. Pyle nodded and gave his friend a small smile. "Yeah, come with me, I'll show you to his room." He motioned back toward the elevators.

Dr. Schneider followed the man to the elevator and they stood in an easy silence as they waited for the doors to open. The silence was comfortable but he could feel his friend eyeing him out of the corner of his eye and it was starting to make him uneasy. The doors opened with a ding and they both stepped quickly inside. Dr. Schneider could still feel his friend's eyes on him and he turned to see Dr. Pyle regarding him with an open stare. "What?" he asked uncertainly.

"What are you doing here, Aaron?"

"I told you, I'm here to see my patient."

Dr. Pyle nodded and finally dropped his eyes to the floor. "You've been working in that prison for over ten years. Not once in all that time have you come to check on one of your patients. Why now?"

Dr. Schneider hesitated, thinking carefully about his answer. "Like I said, Mr. MacManus had a very rough night and I wanted to make sure that he made it through alright."

Dr. Pyle raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I ask again, why all of a sudden do you care?"

Dr. Schneider met his friend's eyes and couldn't help but feel a little defensive. "Connor and his brother spent a lot of time in my infirmary when they first arrived at the prison. During that time I was given the opportunity to get to know them a bit. They really aren't bad people, Mason. They just have a… a skewed sense of justice. I know without a doubt that they would never harm an innocent person."

Dr. Pyle folded his arms across his chest and shook his head in disbelief. "Murder is Murder, Aaron, plain and simple. It doesn't matter who the victim is or what crimes they may have committed, no man should have the right to pick up a gun and start killing people based on their own judgments. It takes a special kind of crazy to believe that doing something like that is okay."

Dr. Schneider sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Things aren't always so black and white," he said quietly.

Dr. Pyle took a step forward and rested a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We need to get you out of that prison. Being surrounded by criminals has desensitized you to violence. You need more interaction with sane, normal people, my friend, or else you are going to end up like the crazies outside the hospital, protesting for the release of a mass murderer."

Dr. Schneider rolled his eyes and couldn't help the spark of annoyance that was beginning to flare up inside him. His friend's ignorance on the topic was beyond frustrating, however, he was saved from having to respond by the elevator doors opening up to reveal the seventh level hallway.

Dr. Pyle gave his friend's shoulder a pat before ushering him into the bright fluorescent hall. "His room is just down here," he indicated the direction with his hand before stepping in front to take the lead.

Dr. Schneider followed the other man down the hall, taking in his surroundings as they walked. He didn't miss how heavily guarded this floor was and had to swallow the nervousness that was rising back up from his stomach as he counted four uniformed officers in this hall alone. _This will work. This will work. This has to work. _He found himself chanting the mantra over and over in his head. Despite being a bundle of nerves on the inside, on the outside he was the picture of calm. It was a trait that came from his long years as a medical professional. Functioning under high pressure was an essential part of being a doctor and it served him well in this situation.

Dr. Pyle came to a stop outside of the only room in the hall with it's own guard posted outside and, with a nod to the officer, he opened the door and held it so that Dr. Schneider could pass through first. The room was set up to accommodate multiple patients, however, there was only one lone figure occupying the large space and Dr. Schneider's gaze immediately came to rest on the man, his heart clinching at the sight.

Connor was restrained in the hospital bed with both the bed restraints as well as a set of handcuffs keeping his left wrist attached to the railing. The Irishman kept his gaze focused out the window as they entered his room and, even without being able to see into his eyes, Dr. Schneider could feel the despair rolling off of him. The man before him was so different from the energetic and lively person he met in his infirmary. Lying in that bed, he looked so broken, so… defeated.

Dr. Pyle unslung his stethoscope from around his neck as he entered the room behind his friend and made his way to Connor's bedside, preparing to check the man's vitals. Bending down, he spared a quick glance into Connor's unfocused eyes. "Still awake I see. You know, you really need to stop fighting the drugs and just let them do their job. Your body needs the rest and depriving yourself of that isn't helping anything. You're only hurting yourself." There was no response and he looked back up at Dr. Schneider with a frustrated sigh. "He is refusing to sleep, eat or drink. I have kept him hooked up to an IV and those sedatives should have knocked him out a long time ago but he just keeps hanging on." He bent back down to Connor's level. "Don't you?" There was still no response and he shook his head in annoyance before moving to the end of the bed, grabbing the patient chart that was hanging there and handing it off to his friend.

Dr. Schneider accepted the chart before pulling a chair up to the side of the bed and taking a seat. Now that he had a clear view of Connor's face, he was taken aback by the man's ragged appearance. Dark circles surrounded sunken in eyes that seemed to stare right thru him into nothing. Very slowly, Dr. Schneider reached a hand out and placed it on Connor's shoulder. "Connor?" There wasn't even a hint of a response. Looking back up, he addressed Dr. Pyle. "Mason, would you give us a few moments alone, please? Maybe I can get him to talk to me if we don't have an audience."

Dr. Pyle shrugged and turned to leave. "Sure, if you think it will help. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dr. Schneider nodded his thanks and watched the man leave before turning his focus back to the damaged man in front of him. "Connor, it's Dr. Schneider, I need you to focus on me now, can you do that?" Nothing. Leaning forward, he tightened his grip on the man's shoulder. "Come on, Connor, I know you can hear me. I'm trying to help you. I want to get you back to your brother but I need you to snap out of it."

Connor's mind felt like it was sinking in quicksand. Every thought was an exhausting struggle and his body was begging him to fall into a desperately needed sleep but he continued to fight it. At this point, his battle to stay awake had become just as much about refusing to accept the situation as it was avoiding the demons that haunted him whenever he let his eyes drift shut. He heard the doctor return to his room but he made no effort to try and understand what he was saying, it didn't matter anyway. Someone came and sat down in front of him and Connor was slightly surprised when his brain recognized the man as Dr. Schneider. Still, it wasn't until the doctor mentioned his brother that his sluggish mind finally snapped to attention and he brought his aching eyes into focus on the man sitting next to him. "You-," his voice cracked and he had to clear his dry throat before trying again, "you've seen Murphy?" Even as he asked the question he felt his first spark of hope since being separated from his twin.

Dr. Schneider perked up at the sudden life in Connor's eyes. "Yes, yes I've seen him." He didn't miss the look of desperate relief that crossed the man's face. "And I'm going to do everything I can to take you to him," he promised.

"He's alive? Murphy's okay?" Connor's voice was still weak but his growing hope was starting to pull him out of the haze he had let himself fall into.

Dr. Schneider glanced up at the door nervously; assuring himself that no one could hear their conversation, before looking back to Connor and nodding. "Murphy is fine. It was a close call but he's going to be alright, especially once he has his brother back at his side," he smiled gently.

Connor couldn't help the flood of tears that filled his eyes and he blinked hard against the rush of emotion. He honestly hadn't expected anyone to come for him. He figured that he would be locked up behind bars and would never see his brother again. The rush of relief was so strong that it crushed his already fragile emotional state and he was forced to choke back a sob.

"It's going to be ok," Dr. Schneider gave Connor's shoulder a sympathetic pat. "We don't have much time so you just have to listen." He cast another wary glance at the door before continuing. "I need you to play along and follow my lead. It is important that you act as if nothing has changed, do you understand?"

There was a quiet knock at the door and Connor nodded quickly. Forgetting about his restraints, he attempted to wipe away a tear that was making its way down his cheek only to be met with the sound of metal clinking as the handcuff tightened around his wrist.

"Just hang in there, Connor. This is almost over," he whispered, giving the man one more quick pat before Dr. Pyle walked back through the door.

"Here, Aaron, I thought you might want to take a look at these." Dr. Pyle came into the room waving a large brown envelope in the air. "Mr. MacManus' CT scans from this morning," he clarified when the other doctor shot him a quizzical look.

Dr. Schneider nodded and looked down to see that Connor had resumed his staring contest with the window before standing to his feet and moving to accept the envelope.

Dr. Pyle pulled out the scans and stepped over to a white board at the back of the room. "Did you have any luck with him?" he asked quietly as he clipped the scans on top of the glass board and switched on the backlight.

"No, I can't even get him to look at me," Dr. Schneider sighed and did his best to look disheartened. "I think he will feel better once he gives into his body's need for rest."

"Maybe," Dr. Pyle shrugged. "But if you ask me, the guy belongs down in psych, not up here." He didn't give his friend a chance to respond before turning their attention to the CT picture in front of them. "You can see here," he pointed a finger at a dark spot on the image, "he has a small contusion just under the frontal lobe. It is very mild, though, and it should heal up just fine on it's own."

Dr. Schneider studied the picture with practiced eyes and nodded his agreement. "That's good, but I would like to take him down for a follow up, just to ensure that the bruise isn't getting bigger and there hasn't been any more bleeding."

Dr. Pyle narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Why? He's fine. You really want to waste hospital resources on this man when all he needs is a few days of rest and an ice pack?"

"It's just a precaution. I know it's inconvenient, but you know I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it was necessary. You know as well as I do how dangerous brain injuries can be and I would feel better if we did a follow up." Dr. Schneider was trying to play this off casually but it was difficult. This whole plan was hinging on him getting Connor down to the lower levels. Pulling this off wasn't an option. Dr. Pyle still looked unconvinced so Dr. Schneider went another route. "Alright," he sighed, "I'll make you a deal. You get us down there for another scan and, assuming everything comes back normal, I will okay him to be moved back to the prison and he will be out of your hair by morning."

Dr. Pyle thought about it for a moment before nodding and giving his friend a sly smile. "Deal. I'll go let radiology know you're coming," he said as he switched off the backlight and removed the old scans.

Dr. Schneider felt a wave of relief and waited for his friend to leave the room before pulling out his phone and shooting a quick text to the men waiting in the SUV. It was time to get into position.

After sending the message, he slid his phone back into his pocket and grabbed a wheelchair that was waiting in the corner before moving back to Connor's side and beginning to un-velcro his bed restraints from his wrists and ankles. "Here we go, Connor. Not much longer now," he whispered encouragingly as he unhooked the IV from his arm.

Dr. Pyle walked back in followed by the police officer that had been sitting out in the hall. "Alright, Aaron, your all set. Come find me when you get done, ok? I'm on call all night so I'll be around."

Dr. Schneider flashed his friend a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mason."

Dr. Pyle gave a nod before walking out, leaving the police officer to remove the handcuffs from the bed rail so Connor could be moved to the wheelchair.

"Alright, let's get you up," Dr. Schneider said quietly, digging his arm under Connor's shoulders to encourage him into a sitting position.

Connor winced as his head began to swim dizzyingly, protesting the sudden change in elevation. He gripped the doctor's shoulder tightly as he attempted to swing his legs over the side of the bed, however, the movement proved to be too difficult for him in his drug addled state and he groaned in frustration.

"It's alright, I've got you." Dr. Schneider kept a strong arm wrapped around Connor's waist as he helped the man get his legs situated over the edge of the bed.

The police officer stepped around to the other side of the bed and together they were able to get Connor transferred over into the wheelchair. Dr. Schneider started slightly as a loud, gargled voice came over the radio that was strapped to the officer's uniform. The voice on the other end of the radio was speaking in codes but, judging by the alarmed look that took over the officer's face, he could tell that it was something serious.

"Shit," the officer swore under his breath.

"Something wrong?" Dr. Schneider quirked an eyebrow.

The officer nodded hastily and quickly took the loose and of the handcuffs and closed the metal down tight around Connor's right wrist, effectively restraining the prisoner's hands in front of him. "They are calling for reinforcements at the main entrance. The protesters are turning violent and trying to force their way into the hospital. Are you going to be alright taking him downstairs on your own?" He bent down to peer into Connor's half lidded eyes. "It doesn't look like he will give you any trouble but keep those handcuffs on him just in case."

"We'll be fine, thank you, Officer."

The police officer nodded and hurried out of the room, breaking into a run when he hit the hallway.

"Alright, Connor, let's get you out of here."

Connor nodded but felt as if his mind was still two steps behind, struggling to catch up with what was happening around him. The only thing he cared about was that he was being taken to his brother. Nothing else mattered at his point.

Dr. Schneider pushed the wheelchair into the hall, stopping when he reached the elevator. The Doors slid open and, looking up, he said a quick thank you to whatever higher power saw fit to ensure that he had the elevator to himself. Stepping on board, the doors closed behind him and he pushed the button for lower level one before kneeling down to address Connor eye to eye. "Once I get you to where you need to be, I am going to hand you off to a group of gentleman who will take you back to the safe house. I wont be going with you, I have to stay here and try to maintain a cover story, but as soon as I am able, I will be by to check on you, okay?" He knew that, with the large dose of sedatives he was on, Connor's mind was probably more than a little sluggish and he wanted to make sure that the man understood what was happening.

When Connor nodded, Dr. Schneider gave him a pat on the knee and stood back up just as the elevator came to a halt. The doors slid open, revealing a dark empty hallway. Lower level one was used only for shipping and receiving purposes and, at this time of night, was utterly abandoned. Sticking his head out, Dr. Schneider peered cautiously around the corner of the elevator, ensuring that they were alone. Satisfied, he stepped back behind Connor and guided the wheelchair down the hall.

"Alright, the loading docks should be just down here," he mumbled more to himself than to Connor.

The hallway emptied out into a large open area with a forklift sitting in a far corner and several piles of empty pallets stacked along the back wall. Dr. Schneider pulled the wheelchair to a stop and stepped over to one of the two loading dock doors. Gripping the handle at the bottom of the door, he tugged hard upwards but the door didn't budge. "Damn it," he cursed quietly when he noticed the thick padlock keeping the door chained firmly to the floor. "It's locked, of course it's locked." A fresh dose of adrenaline coursed through his veins and he looked around wildly for something, anything to help get the door open.

"Doc."

Dr. Schneider looked up at the sound of Connor's voice and looked in the direction that the man was indicating with his head. There, on the back wall, was an emergency station consisting of a fire extinguisher, first-aid kit and a fire axe. Looking back, he nodded at Connor before jumping to his feet and running to snatch the axe from its place on the wall.

Axe in hand, he returned to the door and raised the tool above his head. Taking a steadying breath, he attempted to aim as much as he could before bringing the axe down hard against the lock. He cringed as the sound of metal on metal echoed off the concrete walls but it didn't stop him from taking another swing. Over and over again he brought the axe down until finally, on the sixth try, the lock broke and was sent flying across the floor. "Alright." Dr. Schneider threw the axe down triumphantly and reached for the door handle, preparing to give it another try. This time when he yanked on it the door slid smoothly and easily up toward the ceiling, exposing them to the outdoor world.

The moment the door was lifted, three men in black ski masks charged through the opening, guns drawn.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey!" Dr. Schneider backed up with his hands raised, surprised by the aggressive entrance.

"The fuck?!" Connor pulled against the handcuffs on his wrists and almost crashed to the ground attempting to launch himself from his chair.

Dr. Schneider rushed to Connor's side and steadied the man as he stood on shaky legs. "Jesus, what are you guys doing?!" he cried angrily at the three men who, now that they were inside the building, were holstering their weapons and removing their masks.

Pete Cooper was the first to walk over to where Dr. Schneider was supporting Connor, Dolly and Duffy on his heels. "Sorry about that," Cooper apologized. "You didn't mention anything about security cameras outside the loading bays. It's a good thing Tucker scouted the building before we made our move. Sorry about the guns but we figured that if you were going to try and make it look like you were coerced into this, it wouldn't hurt to have some physical evidence on tape."

"It's fine, but if security just saw that on camera then they are already on their way down here. You all need to get out of here." Dr. Schneider glanced over at Connor who was leaning heavily on his shoulder.

Dolly and Duffy stepped forward quickly, each taking up a position on either side of Connor in order to take the burden of the man's weight off of Dr. Schneider. "Come on, MacManus, let's get you out of here." Duffy spoke quietly as they started to gently lead him toward the open bay door.

Dr. Schneider followed close behind, careful to avoid the outdoor cameras as he filled them in on Connor's condition. "He does have a mild brain injury but, so long as he takes it easy, it should heal up fine on it's own. He is pretty heavily drugged at the moment, but the sedatives in his system should wear off by morning. He really just needs sleep more than anything. If everything goes well here, I will be by to check on both him and Murphy as soon as I am able."

Cooper stepped forward, placing a hand on the doctor's chest, stopping him from getting too close to the door. "Thank you for your help, Doc. We wouldn't have been able to pull this off without you. I know it was risky and we greatly appreciate what you've done, which makes me feel really bad about what I have to do next."

Dr. Schneider looked confused for a moment but didn't have time to question the statement before the butt of Cooper's gun smashed him over the head and everything went dark.

"What the fuck, man?!" Duffy questioned harshly, shock written across his features.

Cooper stalked back over to where the two homicide detectives were struggling to hold Connor upright. "I did him a favor," he said coolly. "If he wants to get out of this clean then he has to look like a victim. He'll be fine. Probably have a headache when he wakes up but that is better than going to prison." He slid his mask back down over his face, motioning for Dolly and Duffy to do the same. "Come on, we have to go."

Connor felt frozen in indecision. His sluggish mind was still two steps behind trying desperately to catch up. What were Dolly and Duffy doing here? Who the hell was this guy? Did he really just pistol-whip Dr. Schneider? He felt like he should do something about that last part but now they were all yelling at him to move and he was confused about what he needed to do.

"Connor, come on, man! We have to go!" The voice came from Dolly who was half pulling half carrying him out into the chilly night air.

He was vaguely aware of stumbling down a few steps before being loaded into a black SUV. The doors were slammed shut and they sped off away from the hospital. "Where's Murph?" he asked sluggishly. That was where they were going, right? To see Murphy? Everything was so hard to focus on but he fought to remain in control of his mind.

"Murphy is at the safe house and we are taking you to him, okay?"

Duffy's voice spoke up from beside him and Connor nodded in understanding before letting his head fall to the side and rest against the glass of the window. They were going to see Murphy. He just had to hold on and stay awake for a little bit longer.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:_ Well, here you guys go, the final chapter! I really am sorry it took so long to get out but it is 11,000 words and it was a lot of work. I suppose I could have split it up into two chapters but I didn't really feel right doing that. I felt like it belonged together so now you have one giant monster update. Before you read, I would like to take a minute and thank everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed as well as all of you silent readers out there who took the time and gave this story a chance, thank you all so so much! I appreciate every one of you! If you liked this story keep an eye out for the sequel, I plan on starting on it soon. Anyways, on with the story!_**

Chapter 16

"You're going to chew that down to the bone if you don't take it easy."

Removing his thumb from his mouth, Murphy looked over at Edwards who had spoken up from his place on the couch before glancing down at his now bleeding digit. "They should've fuckin' been back by now, somethin's wrong." He wiped the blood off on his pants before bringing his thumb back up to his mouth to resume chewing.

Father Sibeal reached an arm over from where he sat in the chair next to Murphy's and swatted the man's hand away from his mouth. "Stop that, lad. They're goin' to be just fine, have a little faith," he scolded, sighing when his nephew just moved from one nervous habit to another, bouncing his legs and drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. The boy never could sit still when he was anxious.

"He's right, Cooper or Tucker would have contacted me if something had gone wrong. They'll be here soon," Smecker said confidently, not looking up from his task of re-bandaging the puncture wound in Edwards' hand.

Murphy nodded and resisted the urge to continue working his thumbnail with his teeth. It seemed like an eternity since Dr. Schneider left for the hospital with the rest of the group and the wait was pure torture. It took everything he had not to rip the tube from his chest and go after Connor himself despite how incredibly foolish that would be. Instead, he resigned himself to playing this agonizing waiting game and sat tight, watching the minutes tick slowly by.

The sound of someone lightly rapping on the front door caused them all to jump to attention. Father Sibeal stood from his chair and approached the door, looking through the peephole before turning back and nodding. "It's them," he confirmed before turning back and quickly flipping the locks and opening the door.

Murphy shot to his feet a little too quickly and almost came crashing back down when the sudden movement set a fire in his rib cage. Gripping his side, he caught himself on the arm of the chair and straightened slowly as Dolly and Duffy came through the door dragging a stumbling Connor between them. Murphy's eyes widened in surprise, unprepared for the drugged and broken state his twin was being returned to him in. "Jesus, Connor," he breathed, limping quickly across the room to close the distance between them.

Stepping in front of his brother, Murphy ducked his head to try and see into his glazed, unfocused eyes. When Connor didn't respond he turned worried eyes onto Duffy in silent question.

"The doc said that they had him pretty heavily drugged and it will take some time for it to work its way through his system. We had a hard time getting him to respond to anything on the drive here. He kept asking about you but he didn't seem to hear much of anything we were saying," the detective filled in quietly.

Murphy nodded before turning his attention back to his twin. Very gently, he slipped his hands up to rest on either side of his brother's face and lifted his head up so he could look into his half-lidded, pale blue eyes. "Connor?" he questioned softly. "Look at me." Murphy gave his brother's face a firm pat and his twin's eyes finally came into focus. "There ya go, that's it," he encouraged.

When Connor's eyes finally met and latched onto Murphy's, there was a myriad of emotions that crossed his face before he reached out his still handcuffed wrists and touched his brother's face with trembling fingers. "Murph?" he asked in disbelief, his voice rough with emotion.

Murphy nodded and gave his brother a sad smile. "Yeah, Conn, it's me. We've got ya now; everythin's goin' to be all right."

Connor was looking at Murphy as if he couldn't believe he was actually standing there in front of him. There were a few short seconds of silence before a dam seemed to break inside of him and the words came tumbling out in a sobbing, slurred mess. "Murph, oh Jesus, Murphy, I'm so fuckin' sorry. It's all my fault. Rocco, Greenly, Da, Rome and you… you were dyin', Murph… I couldn't get to ya; I couldn't help ya. They took ya and I can never see ya again. Fuck, Murphy, I'm so fuckin' sorry for everythin'."

Connor's voice trailed off into quiet sobs and Murphy felt his heart breaking. He had never seen his brother like this and it scared him a little. He knew that the crying and rambling were most likely caused by the drugs in his system, but it killed him to see his normally strong and composed twin so vulnerable and frantic. The drug induced babbling caused Murphy to come to the painful realization of just how much Connor was still blaming himself for everything that had happened, not only at the prison, but in their past as well.

Unable to just stand there and listen to his brother cry, Murphy moved one of his hands to the back of Connor's neck and pulled him in till their foreheads were touching, leaving his other hand on the side of his twin's face to keep his gaze focused on him. "Oh, Connor, hey, nothin' is your fault. Ya hear me? Everythin' is goin' to be just fine now. I'm not goin' anywhere and neither are you, all right? Everythin' is fine," he soothed him quietly.

Connor didn't respond verbally to anything Murphy was saying but he seemed to be calmed by his brother's close proximity and soothing words. His sobs grew quieter and Dolly and Duffy were forced to readjust their hold on him as he relaxed heavily into their arms.

Seeing that Connor was finally starting to succumb completely to the pull of the drugs in his system, Father Sibeal approached Murphy and rested a hand on his nephews shoulder. "Let's get him a warm place to lay down, lad. He'll feel better once he gets rested up." He said when Murphy looked over at him.

Glancing back at Connor, Murphy noticed that his brother's eyelids were beginning to drift closed and his weight was almost completely suspended between the two detectives. Nodding his agreement, he gave his twin's face one more fond pat before stepping aside so they could haul Connor's limp body back to the bedrooms.

Smecker's voice stopped them before they reached the hallway. "Where are Cooper and Tucker?" he looked questioningly at both Dolly and Duffy.

They are keeping watch to make sure no one saw us bring him in then they are going to dump the car, said they'd be back in an hour," Duffy responded and continued toward the back of the apartment when Smecker nodded.

Murphy followed closely behind as they carried Connor back to the bedroom where he had first woken up the afternoon before. As gently as possible, they lowered the man's limp form down onto the bed and stepped away so Murphy could continue to reassure his barely conscious twin with his presence.

"We can bring in a mattress from one of the other rooms and set on the floor in here for you, if you'd like," Dolly spoke up quietly.

Murphy turned back toward the two men and nodded gratefully. "Thank ya, both of ya." He glanced back down at Connor before looking up at them again. "Thank ya for everythin'."

The two detectives shared a look with each other before smiling back at him. "After everything you boys have done, being able to help you is a fucking honor, man," Duffy said seriously.

Murphy gave them a tired smile and watched them head down the hall before turning back to his brother. Connor's eyes were closed but he was still twitching restlessly as his body continued to fight the sleep that it no longer had any control over. Placing a firm hand across his twin's forehead, Murphy spoke softly to him in Gaelic. "Shhh, everythin's fine, Connor. Ya need to rest now. Ya have to stop fightin' it and just go to sleep. I'm not goin' anywhere; I'll be right here."

The calming effect of the words and the language they were spoken in, combined with his brother's reassuring touch, encouraged Connor to finally let go completely. Murphy watched as his twin's body finally stilled and his breathing evened out as he finally slipped into a deep sleep.

/ / /

Murphy's eyes opened slowly as he was dragged from his light slumber back to awareness. Lying on his back, he stared up at the ceiling and listened carefully for the sound that had awoken him… there. He heard it again. Very slowly, he pushed himself onto his elbows and looked up from his place on the floor to where Connor was whimpering restlessly in his sleep. Careful of the tube in his side, Murphy sat up and glanced around the semi-dark room. Judging by the lack of light, he guessed it to be sometime in the late evening. He had been camped out by his brother's side for the last two days, waiting for him to wake up, and he was starting to grow concerned with the fact that he was sill sleeping. He remembered Dr. Schneider mentioning that Connor had sustained a concussion and he was afraid that his twin was suffering the ill effects of the injury.

Murphy was relieved to finally see some sort of sign that his brother was waking but his relief was short lived and his concern only switched tracks faster than his mind could process as Connor's quiet whimpers slowly grew louder and more distressed. Rolling onto his knees, he crawled to the side of the bed and placed a hand on his brother's bare chest, giving him a gentle shake. "Connor," he whispered. When his twin continued to struggle, trapped helplessly in the throes of his dream, Murphy pulled himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the bed and moved his hands to Connor's shoulders, giving him another shake. "Connor, wake up." His efforts did nothing to bring his brother back to the waking world, if anything, he only seemed to be falling deeper into his nightmare.

Sweat was beginning to break out on Connor's face and his head rolled back and forth on the pillow. "No…fuck…Rome…" he mumbled as he kicked and fought with the covers that were restraining him from the waist down.

Murphy felt a pang of sadness at the mention of their departed friend and didn't have to guess very hard at the horrors that were haunting his brother. The nightmare seemed to be growing in ferocity and Murphy was forced to duck a wild swing from Connor's flailing fists. Popping back up, he reached out and, catching both of his twin's wrists, he pinned them to the mattress. "Come on, Connor, wake up!" he spoke loudly, getting down in his brother's face, but Connor's dream raged on.

"Please, no…Murphy…" The feeling of having his hands pinned only seemed to exacerbate Connor's fear and the man fought with a panic driven strength. Murphy's weakened state allowed Connor to easily pull his hands free and he struck out blindly with his right fist, making a solid connection with Murphy's injured ribs.

"Ow, son of a bitch!" Murphy cried, sliding off the bed back onto the floor as a searing jolt shot through his abdomen. "Fuck," he growled as he clutched at his midsection and rocked back and forth in attempt to deal with the pain.

"Murphy!" The sound of his brother crying out was enough to finally release Connor from the torment of his dream and he shot upright, his twin's name a dying scream on his lips.

The door to the bedroom flung open, nearly slamming into the wall behind it, as Edwards, drawn by the raised voices, came crashing through the opening. "What is it? What's going on?" he asked, eyes wide with alarm. Quickly scanning the room, he first took in Murphy's groaning form on the floor before moving his gaze up to where Connor was sitting on the bed, chest heaving, eyes wild with fear.

"Whe…what…where the fuck?" Connor stuttered, running a trembling hand through his sweaty hair causing it to stand up in spikes. His brain was trying desperately to catch up and make sense of where he was but the bits and fragments his memory was feeding him made no sense.

Edwards stepped quickly over to Murphy's side and offered him a hand up off the floor. "Are you alright? What happened?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Keeping one arm wrapped around his midsection, Murphy accepted the help up and nodded at the young man. "Bad dream," was the only explanation he gave before moving back to sit on the edge of the bed in front of his brother. His ribs were still on fire and he was pretty certain the tube had been dislodged, but one glance at the lost and frightened look on twin's face had his own pain fading to the background. He placed a gentle hand on Connor's shoulder and his brother's gaze came up and immediately locked onto his.

"Murphy?" he asked, confusion and disbelief coloring his tone.

Murphy nodded and gave him a gentle smile. "Yeah, I'm here."

Without warning, Connor gripped Murphy's arms and pulled him into a fierce hug. "I thought I fuckin' lost ya, Murph," he whispered into his brother's ear.

Assured that everyone was okay, Edwards slipped quietly back out of the room, giving the brothers some time alone.

Murphy winced as the pressure of the embrace squeezed his ribcage but he didn't pull away. He needed the contact just as much as Connor seemed to. "Ya didn't lose me and you're not fuckin' goin' to. Everythin' is fine."

Connor held tight for a few more moments before finally loosening his grip and allowing Murphy to pull away. His eyes wandered around the room before he dropped his head in his hands and rubbed his temples. He felt like he had hit the bottle way too hard, his head was fucking pounding and none of his memories made any sense. "What the fuck happened? Where are we?"

Murphy sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, unsure of where he should even begin. "What's the last thing ya remember?" he asked, not entirely certain how much his brother would be able to recall of his time spent so heavily drugged.

Connor tilted his head and looked up at the ceiling as he tried to work out some sort of timeline in his hazy memory. "I remember them takin' ya away in the ambulance. Everythin' went black after that and the next thing I knew I was wakin' up in a fuckin' hospital." He grew quiet and dropped his gaze down to his lap. "I didn't think I was ever goin' to see ya again." Looking back up, he met Murphy's sharp blue eyes and could see that his brother had been afraid of the very same thing. "After that, things start gettin' a bit hazy. The doc kept pumpin' some fuckin' drug into me and it made it difficult to focus on anythin'. I remember the U.S. Marshals comin' to talk to me. They were askin' about ya, wantin' me to help them find ya." Connor felt his brother stiffen and he frowned at him. "I didn't fuckin' tell 'em anythin', Murph. Ya know I'd never do that."

Murphy nodded. He did know that, but the knowledge that the U.S. Marshals were hot on their trail, just waiting for them to make a mistake, still caused his stomach to do a flip.

"It's hard for me to guess how long I was at the hospital," Connor continued. "But I remember Dr. Schneider comin' in and tellin' me that ya were safe and that he was goin' to get me out of there. I saw Dolly and Duffy, and some guy I had never met before. Then you were there in front of me and I thought for sure I was fuckin' dreamin' the whole thing up." He grew quiet as he attempted to dredge up more details from his mind, but nothing came and he scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration.

Murphy gave his brother a sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder. "There was no way in hell I was goin' to let them leave ya behind. As soon as Edwards told me what had happened I was ready to go after ya myself."

"Well I'm glad that someone had the sense to stop ya, that would have topped the very long list of stupid and idiotic things you've done in your life."

Murphy rolled his eyes and gave his twin a light shove. "Fuck off, you would've done the same fuckin' thing and ya know it."

Connor nodded, it was true. "Yeah well, it doesn't look like ya would've made it very far even if you had tried." His eyes raked over the scores of bruises covering Murphy's face and abdomen before settling on the tube in his side. "Ya look like shit, Murph."

Murphy looked down at himself and cringed at the sight of the wicked looking bruises. "Yeah, the doc said it was almost too late for me but he managed to pull me through. I owe that man more than my life, especially after what he did for you at the hospital." Thinking about Dr. Schneider caused Murphy's brow to furrow in concern. Despite his promise to stop by and check on them, no one had seen or heard from the man since the night they busted Connor out. If everything had gone according to plan he would've been here by now and his absence had everyone more than a little worried.

"So Dr. Schneider, huh? Can't say I saw that comin'. Didn't think the man had it in him to pull off somethin' like this."

Murphy snorted in amusement. "If you think that's surprisin' then you're in for a real fuckin' treat."

Connor gave him a quizzical look but his question was cut off when someone knocked softly on the bedroom door.

"Come in," Murphy shouted over his shoulder.

Both brothers looked up when the door creaked open and watched as Edwards poked his head in. "Hey, sorry but Dr. Schneider finally showed up and he wants to check you both over real quick. Do you want to come out or should I send him back here?"

Murphy gave a sigh of relief before looking at his twin in silent question. Connor gave a small nod and Murphy turned back to face the young man in the doorway. "We'll meet ya out there then."

Edwards nodded and ducked back out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Murphy stood slowly to his feet and walked over to the dresser in the corner while Connor pulled himself out of bed. Yanking a clean pair of jeans from the top drawer, he tossed them over to his twin who caught them and quickly pulled them on. After fastening the pants around his waist, Connor looked up only to be lobbed in the face with a dark colored t-shirt. He shot a glare at his smirking twin before yanking the shirt down over his head and moving toward the door.

After a quick stop at the bathroom in the hall, the brothers made their way out to the living room. Murphy still hadn't filled him in on where they were or who was behind all of this and Connor was slightly nervous about who or what he would find out there. Rounding the corner at the end of the hallway, they got a full view of the living room and Connor froze mid-step, mouth hanging open in shock. Whoever he had expected to see, it certainly wasn't the man that was sitting cross-legged on the couch on the other side of the room.

Murphy felt his brother's steps falter and smiled knowingly. He knew how shocked he had been when he first saw Smecker standing in front of him, very much alive, and he almost felt bad for not preparing his twin for the surprising revelation.

Dr. Schneider was sitting in the chair next to the couch talking to Smecker and Murphy could tell by the doctor's serious expression and the former agent's tense posture that something was wrong. His smile faded from his face and he walked the rest of the way into the room, forgetting about his gaping brother in the hall. "What's wrong?" he asked hesitantly.

Both men looked up simultaneously as the brothers entered the room. Ignoring Murphy's question, Smecker stood from his place on the couch and made his way over to them. He placed a hand on Murphy's shoulder in greeting before turning to Connor and smiling at the man's shocked expression. "Connor, glad you finally decided to join us," he said, extending a friendly hand.

Connor shook the man's hand but still seemed to be too stunned to speak. He cast a pointed look in his brother's direction before finally shaking himself out of his stupor enough to form a response. "You did this?"

Smecker nodded with a sigh. "Well, as much as I'd like to, I can't take all the credit for myself. I had a lot of help." He looked over at Dr. Schneider then at Edwards who was occupying the other end of the couch.

"Why? Why would you do this for us?" Connor asked, feeling a mixture of amazement and confusion.

"The World needs the Saints." Smecker fixed an intense look, first on Connor, then Murphy. "There is a lot of work left to be done."

Connor shared a look with his brother before moving his gaze to the floor. He wasn't sure how to feel about that and his swirling mess of emotions left him speechless. After everything they went through at the prison, losing Romeo, almost losing Murphy, the thought of rushing right back out into danger caused his adrenaline to spike, leaving him in a cold sweat. This was too much for his already pounding head to handle and he needed time to process what exactly this meant for them. Glancing back up, he nodded his head and gave Smecker a half smile before moving stiffly to the empty seat next to Dr. Schneider. He was already starting to feel tired again despite the fact that he had just woken up from a two-day nap and he plopped down heavily into the chair.

Murphy watched his brother with concern. He knew this was a lot to take in all at once but he had expected his twin to be a little more enthusiastic about the prospect of getting back to work. Destroying evil was their calling; it was their mission handed down to them from god and, after their time spent locked in the Hoag, he was itching to pick up where they left off. _He just needs a little time, _Murphy told himself. Tearing his eyes away from Connor, he turned back to Smecker and the man's serious expression reminded him of his previous question. "So, what's goin' on?" He looked seriously at Dr. Schneider before meeting Smecker's eyes once more. "I can tell somethin's wrong."

Dr. Schneider stood to his feet and grabbed Murphy by the elbow, motioning for him to take a seat in the now empty chair. "I just informed Smecker that I was being followed on my way over here," he explained as he knelt down and began examining Murphy's battered rib cage.

Murphy glanced at Smecker in alarm before looking back to the doctor, wincing as the man prodded his broken ribs. "Followed? By fuckin' who?"

Dr. Schneider shrugged. "If I had to guess, I would say it was the U.S. Marshals Service. I don't think they believed my story." He rocked back onto his heels and ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "The night that we got Connor out I was questioned by the Marshal in charge of tracking you two down, Weston I think his name was, and ever since then I have had my own personal escort everywhere I go. Someone is posted outside my house twenty-four hours a day and if I leave, they follow. That is why it has taken me so long to get into the city to check on you. I was too afraid to call, unsure of whether or not they would be listening in. Finally, today, I noticed the car that had been parked across the street from my house was gone. I had hoped that they finally just gave up on getting anything useful out of me but as soon as I pulled out of my neighborhood on my way here, that same car was right back on my tail again. He was hanging a few cars back, trying to be sneaky but I still spotted him."

"How do you know it's the Marshals Service and not someone more dangerous? The Saints have developed quite a long list of enemies. Maybe someone knew you were with Connor when he escaped the hospital and has somehow managed to put two and two together," Edwards asked from his place next to Smecker.

Dr. Schneider shook his head. "The car had government issued plates, that and I tried calling the police to report it and nothing ever happened."

"So how did you manage to get out from under your new shadow?" Smecker asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "I really hope I'm right in assuming that you're smart enough to not lead them right to us." His expression turned deadly serious as he waited for an answer.

Dr. Schneider scoffed, looking rather insulted. "You really think I would lead them here? I mean, I know I'm new to this whole outlaw, vigilante thing but come on, give me some credit." Smecker's expression didn't change and Dr. Schneider held his hands up in surrender. "Of course I didn't lead them here. I drove around this city for over an hour before I finally managed to lose them in traffic. They didn't follow me here," he did his best to reassure the former F.B.I agent who was still scowling at him.

Smecker stared at the doctor for a few more moments before standing to his feet, snatching his phone from the coffee table in front of him and stepping quickly out of the room while punching numbers into the key pad.

Dr. Schneider turned back to Murphy, his eyes clouded with concern. "I didn't lead them here, I swear. I wouldn't do that."

Murphy gave a half smile and patted the doctor on the shoulder. "I know that, Doc, he's just bein' cautious. I'm really glad you made it back; we were startin' to get worried about ya."

Dr. Schneider nodded. "I know that if they had anything substantial I would be in custody right now but I probably wont risk coming back here again. It's best if I keep my distance from here on out."

"Well, we can't thank ya enough for everythin' you've done for us. Ya saved Murphy's life and that's a debt I don't think I could ever repay." Connor spoke up, finally breaking his stoic silence.

Dr. Schneider grinned at the man before fixing both brothers with a stern expression. "Yes, well, don't let it be for nothing. You boys need to be more careful and stay out of trouble, you understand?"

Connor and Murphy both nodded good-naturedly and Dr. Schneider went back to examining Murphy's injuries. Pulling a stethoscope out of his bag on the floor, he stuck them in his ears and placed the other end against the man's chest. "Take a few deep breaths for me, Murphy." Murphy obeyed and Dr. Schneider listened carefully for any abnormal breathing sounds. "That's good," he nodded in satisfaction before removing the stethoscope and reaching up to check on the small chest tube. "We should probably remove this today. Your breathing isn't labored and your lungs are sounding good."

"Good, that thing's a fuckin' pain the ass." Murphy winced as Dr. Schneider began cutting the stitches that were holding the tube in place.

"Well, it's a pain in the ass that saved your life," Dr. Schneider countered. Setting his trauma shears back down in his bag, he looked back up at Murphy. "Once the tube is out, I'm going to have to stitch this incision up. I don't have any pain killers so it may be a bit uncomfortable."

Murphy waved his hand in the air. "I'll be fine, just get it over with." He gritted his teeth together when Dr. Schneider took his words to heart and immediately began pulling the tube slowly from in between his ribs.

Once the tube was out, Dr. Schneider quickly cleaned the incision site before producing a sterile suture kit and stitching up the hole with practiced hands. With the stitches in place, he covered the wound with a bandage and moved on to Connor. "I don't know how much you remember from the hospital or if Dr. Pyle even made an attempt to explain your condition to you, but you suffered a light concussion and you had some bruising in your brain. You can expect to feel some dizziness and nausea, and you may also find yourself feeling more tired than usual. It is common with these types of injuries to experience frequent headaches ranging from mild to severe. These symptoms may last anywhere from a few weeks to a month, sometimes longer, so just be prepared for those things and call me if you have any concerns, alright?"

Connor nodded but didn't get a chance to respond before Smecker walked swiftly back into the room, phone in hand.

"I spoke with Cooper and he is going to do some digging, see if he can't find out anything on who ordered your surveillance. Tucker is going to post up outside the building here and keep watch, just to be sure that no one followed you here." He sat back down on the couch and looked to Dr. Schneider. "I suggest you buy yourself a disposable pre-pay phone and if you have to contact us for any reason, call this number." He scribbled a phone number down on a note pad that was sitting on the coffee table before ripping the page and handing it over.

Dr. Schneider looked at the number before folding the paper in half and slipping it into his back pocket. "I should probably be going then." Standing to his feet, he gathered up his bag of medical supplies and turned back to Connor and Murphy. "I will call in a day or two, just to be sure that you are both healing well. Once I get a phone, I will leave my number with Smecker so you can call if you have any questions or if something goes wrong. Remember, you are both sill healing and it is important that you take it easy and let your bodies recover." He fixed them both with a serious look but his expression softened into a small smile when they both nodded.

"We can't thank ya enough for everythin' you've done, Doc." Murphy stood and shook the man's hand.

Dr. Schneider nodded. "It's fine, just remember what I said, be careful and keep yourselves safe."

Smecker stood and walked the doctor to the door, waiting for him to disappear down the hall of the apartment building before closing the door and locking the deadbolt.

/ / /

Charlie Weston tirelessly paced the length of his office while absent-mindedly thumbing through the thick file in his hands. Two days. It had been two days since Connor MacManus escaped from custody and every minute that ticked by only decreased his chances of finding the missing Saints. With the right connections, two days was more than enough time for someone to escape the country under the radar. They could be anywhere by now. Smirking inwardly to himself, Weston clinched his jaw in determination. It didn't matter how far they ran, he told himself, he was a fucking bloodhound and he would hunt them down to the ends of the earth. Chasing fugitives was his job and he was damn good at it. There was no way these crazy assholes were going to get away from him.

Returning his focus back to the folder in his hand, he flipped the page but it was pointless. He had already memorized this file front to back and knew there was nothing in there that was going to help him track these men down. Most of the information in the folder was facts and photos from the crime scenes, both recent and from the Saints original killing spree eight years ago. There was actually very little personal information known about the MacManus brothers. They knew that the boys came here to America from Ireland in 1991 at the age of twenty. They lived out of the system for the most part, taking jobs that paid in cash and living in illegal housing on the cheap. Aside from one instance of disorderly conduct that involved a drunken bar fight back in '95, their criminal record was pretty well clean. Up until they snapped and decided to start dropping mobsters like it was open season, that is. The file showed that the brothers still had relatives living in Ireland and Weston considered the chances that they would flee back to their homeland before quickly discarding the thought. They were smarter than that. Surely they realized that would be the first place he would come looking for them.

Despite the fact that the citywide manhunt hadn't turned up shit, Weston couldn't shake the feeling that the Saints were still close by. He may not have much personal information on the men themselves, but the eleven crime scenes left by the vigilante duo told a story of an insatiable need to spill blood and a brutal desire to carry out this crackpot 'mission' of theirs at all costs. Weston's gut was telling him that this wasn't going to just end with the MacManus brothers escaping from prison. He honestly didn't believe that the two Irishmen would be content with simply running and hiding and, after seeing what these men were capable of, he firmly believed that it was only going to be a matter of time before the Saints began leaving a fresh trail of bodies in their wake. Although it would certainly make tracking them down easier, Weston knew he had to find them before they got a chance to pick up where they left off. It was _his_ job to capture the fugitives and every life that these men took while he failed to bring them in was on his conscience.

That thought lent a new sense of urgency to his pacing until finally he growled in frustration, throwing the file down uselessly onto his desk. This was supposed to be an easy job. When he was first given the assignment to find Murphy MacManus, he had been cocky, thinking he would have this resolved within the week.

When Murphy was broken out, they had been forced to leave Connor behind and that was going to be the key to recapturing the missing Saint. The boys were twins and he knew from the file that they had spent their entire lives together. He remembered hearing the story of the incident that took place the same week that the Saints started their bloody rampage. The story of a couple of Russian mobsters that got their pride wounded in a bar fight on Saint Patty's day and decided to track the two Irishmen down at their home, seeking revenge. Connor had been handcuffed to a toilet and Murphy was dragged out to the ally to be executed. Weston knew after hearing this story that, any man who could find the strength to rip a toilet straight out of the floor then proceed to jump from the top of a five-story building, was a man who would stop at absolutely nothing to protect his brother.

Weston knew before he even went to talk to Connor in the hospital that the man would never agree to help them bring in his twin, but he had wanted to talk to him all the same. He wanted to see for himself just how deep that loyalty ran and whether or not he could be swayed into helping them. It was pretty much what he had thought. Connor may have only spoken a few words to him but he could see it in the man's eyes, he would never give his brother up. Weston hadn't been too put out about that. Sure, it would have made his job easier if Connor had just told him what he needed to know but he didn't need the Saint's cooperation to make him useful. He was fairly confident that, as long as Connor was in custody, his brother wouldn't be going very far. Weston had been counting on this bond the boys shared to coax Murphy MacManus out of hiding but all of those plans got shot to shit when Connor had been allowed to simply waltz off into the sunset.

Weston dropped heavily into the chair behind his desk and ran a hand over his face. He was still enraged that, despite the increase in hospital security as well as the dozens of police officers standing guard, Connor had managed to get away. Whoever had organized the escape had been very clever, using the mass of protesters as a distraction the way they had. Even with the distraction, pulling off that escape would have been impossible without somebody on the inside helping them. Weston's thoughts turned back to Dr. Schneider and he recalled the story the man had told the police. The doctor had claimed that he had been intercepted in the elevator on the way down to radiology, held at gunpoint and forced down to the loading docks on the lower level. It was a lie. He couldn't prove it was a lie and the evidence more than supported the doctor's story, but he knew the man was lying.

The fact that Dr. Schneider had been in the hospital at all was a giant red flag to him. Sure, Connor was technically his patient, but his presence was completely unnecessary. Maybe if the man had made a habit of personally checking on all of his patients when they were sent off for treatment it wouldn't seem so suspicious to him but that wasn't the case. Why Connor MacManus? Why did Dr. Schneider care so much about this one prisoner? Even the attending on call at the hospital that night had expressed his confusion over Dr. Schneider's presence. Weston had spoken with Dr. Pyle briefly and, although the man had been hesitant to talk to him at first, he eventually opened up and confessed that Dr. Schneider, whom he knew personally, hadn't been acting like himself. He had said that the only reason Mr. MacManus was being taken to radiology in the first place was because Dr. Schneider had insisted on it. Weston's gut instinct was screaming at him to take a closer look at the doctor so, using their limited resources, he placed the man under surveillance and has had someone tailing him for the last two days.

The sound of someone knocking on his office door snapped him from his thoughts. "It's open," he shouted, lacing his fingers behind his head as he reclined backward in his chair. Garcia, his partner on the case, barged in through the door before forcefully slamming it closed behind him.

"He fucking lost him!" the man ranted, grabbing one of the empty chairs in front of the desk and dropping angrily into it.

"What are you talking about?" Weston narrowed his eyes at his partner in confusion. "Who lost who?"

"Wilson. He lost the fucking doctor. Called me an hour ago and told me the doc was finally on the move and was headed for the city. I told him to lay low, follow him but stay back far enough so he doesn't get spotted. Well, the bastard called me back not five minutes ago and told me that he lost him in fucking traffic. Said the doc must have known he was there cause he cruised around Boston for over an hour, driving in circles, making random turns. The man was clearly up to something and Wilson just let him get away! That fucker had one job, keep tabs on the doctor, and he couldn't even manage that without screwing up. This isn't the first time that kid has fucked something like this up and I really hope the Chief tosses him out on his ass this time."

"Goddamnit," Weston swore under his breath. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his desk and massaged his temples. This wasn't what he wanted to hear. He wasn't ready to put all of the blame on Wilson the way his hotheaded partner apparently was, but this was still very bad news. Rubbing his aching eyes with a sigh, he fixed Garcia with a tired look. "We may not get another chance at this. He was headed somewhere he didn't want us to follow and I doubt he will risk it again. Although," he paused thoughtfully, "This isn't entirely bad news."

Garcia gave a humorless chuckle and shook his head. "How the fuck do you figure that?"

Weston's lips curled up into a sly grin. "We now know for sure that Aaron Schneider is hiding something and I am pretty confident I know what that something is." Reaching out, he flipped open the file he had thrown down onto his desk and found himself staring into two identical sets of pale blue eyes as the pages opened directly to a photo of the MacManus brothers' mug shots. "The cocky bastards are still in the city." Weston glanced up at Garcia before looking back down at the photo, his smile widening. "We'll be seeing you boys real soon."

/ / /

Connor exhaled a long stream of smoke from his lungs, watching as it obscured his view of the pre-dawn sky before a breeze picked it up and carried it gently away. Sitting on the balcony of the small apartment that had served as their safe house for the last week and a half, he watched as the city slowly came to life with the rising sun, the last vestiges of his most recent nightmare still playing through his mind.

This one had been the same as all the other dreams that had become his constant companion anytime he dared to let his eyes drift shut. Always he was restrained, unable to move or even speak as he was forced to watch a gun take aim and fire, first at Romeo then Murphy. All he could do was watch helplessly as their blood and life drained away before his eyes. Sometimes, instead of Romeo, it would be Rocco or Greenly, or even their Da that would be strung up next to Murphy, bleeding out in front of him. They were all people that Connor had been unable to save in life and it was no different in the dream world. He was never strong enough to break free from whatever was holding him back and, without his voice, he could never utter the simple words that would make it all stop. They all died, every time.

A shiver chased its way down his spine and Connor shook his head, attempting to clear away the lasting horrors that haunted his nights. Taking one more drag from the cigarette in his hand, he flicked it over the rail of the balcony before digging his pack out of his pocket and tapping out another smoke. Lighting it up, he inhaled deeply, allowing the nicotine to curl through his veins and settle his anxious mind.

His nightmares weren't the only thing keeping him from sleep. After spending the better part of two weeks laying low in the apartment, Smecker had finally informed them last night that they would soon be making their move to escape the city. The man hadn't given away any details as to where they would be headed or what they would be doing there, saying only that he would have more information for them in the morning. He left shortly after that to meet with Agents Cooper and Tucker and make arrangements.

Over the last week, Murphy had gone completely stir crazy, bouncing off the walls and driving Connor insane with his boundless energy, and the prospect of moving on and getting back to work had his brother brimming with excitement. Connor wished he could share his twin's enthusiasm but the thought of taking up their mission once more left him with a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't that he didn't believe that what they were doing was right; he still had the utmost faith in the job that God had assigned to them. It was the loss and sacrifice that came with the mission that had him nearly paralyzed with fear.

Connor wasn't afraid for himself. He wasn't scared to die. Had this task been assigned to him and him alone there wouldn't be this hesitation that he felt now. Alone he could be the vengeful striking hammer of God without the fear of losing those he loved, but he wasn't alone, and he had lost more than his conscience could deal with. Rocco, Greenly and Romeo were all good men and they all died because of their association with the Saints. He never should have allowed any of them to get involved but he did and now the weight of their deaths hung heavily on his shoulders.

Connor didn't want to risk anymore. He couldn't handle any more loss and that was what had him so scared of this whole thing. What happened when the next person to lose their life was the one person that would crush him completely to lose? Connor had gotten a taste of what the pain of that particular loss would feel like and it was enough for him to know that he never wanted to feel it again.

"You want some company?"

Connor jumped at the sound of the voice behind him and turned quickly to see Edwards step through the sliding glass door out onto the tiny balcony.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Edwards apologized, giving him a sheepish grin. The young man took in the grave expression on Connor's face and paused in the doorway. "Do you want to be alone?" he asked hesitantly.

Connor shook his head and offered the young man a small smile. "No, it's fine. Take a seat." Extending his leg, he kicked an empty chair in Edwards' direction and motioned to the seat with a nod of his head. Edwards accepted the invitation and Connor took another drag from his cigarette before opening his pack of smokes and offering it in the young man's direction. Edwards declined with a shake of his head and Connor shrugged, sliding the pack back in his pocket. "What're ya doin' up so early?" he asked.

"I expect the same thing you are." Connor cocked an eyebrow and Edwards continued. "Couldn't sleep," he explained.

Connor nodded. "Aye, suppose I'm a bit restless myself."

"Still having those dreams?" Edwards asked quietly, glancing at the other man out of the corner of his eye.

Connor looked up in surprise, unaware that anyone other than his twin knew of his nightly horrors. "Sounds like I need to teach Murphy how to keep his fuckin' mouth shut," he growled, uncomfortable knowing that his nightmares had become public knowledge.

"Murphy didn't tell me. He didn't have to. We live in a small space, it wasn't hard to figure out that you were having problems."

"I'm not havin' fuckin' problems. They're just stupid fuckin' dreams and I haven't had one in days," he lied.

Edwards nodded, seeing how defensive the topic made the man and not wanting to push it. "That's good to hear," he said simply.

They both fell quiet, listening as the familiar sounds of city life began to grow louder with the oncoming morning. After a few minutes of silence Edwards glanced back over at Connor who was flicking the remains of his cigarette over the railing and cleared his throat. "So, you excited to hear what Smecker has to say this morning?" he asked conversationally.

Connor shrugged and nodded his head. "I suppose. I know if we don't get out of this apartment soon Murphy is gonna fuckin' explode."

Edwards chuckled. He knew Connor wasn't exaggerating. He had watched with mild amusement over the last week as Murphy grew more restless with each day that passed and wondered how long until the man drove them all insane. It had been entertaining to him to watch the brothers interact with each other. It seemed that, the more bored Murphy became, the more he would try to pick fights with his twin. It would start with bickering back and forth, usually started by something Murphy said, and would somehow, despite their still healing injuries, end with both men wrestling on the ground like overgrown children. "Has he always been so…" Edwards paused trying to find the right word to describe the man.

"High-spirited?" Connor filled in, smiling when Edwards nodded. "Yeah, he was even worse when we were kids, drove our Ma nuts. At least now ya can give 'em a bottle of whisky to help calm him down. Although, sometimes that backfires and only riles 'em up even more." Connor laughed to himself as he thought about his twin's unique personality.

The sound of the door opening behind them caused both men to turn and, as if summoned by their words, the topic of their conversation stepped out onto the balcony. Murphy rubbed a tattooed finger through his sleep bleary eyes, attempting to wake himself up. "What the fuck are ya guys doin' up so early?" he asked, leaning against the railing in front of his brother.

"We couldn't sleep," Edwards said with a shrug.

Murphy's eyes cut over to his twin and narrowed in concern. "Everythin' all right?" he asked quietly.

Connor rolled his eyes. "Everythin's fine, Murph. Just not tired is all." He felt a little guilty lying to his brother but Murphy had already had to wake him up and save him from his nightmares on more than one occasion and he didn't want him to worry anymore than he already was.

Murphy stared at his brother for a few moments before nodding and averting his eyes. "So what were ya guys talkin' about?"

"You."

"Nothing," Edwards responded at the same.

Murphy arched an eyebrow at the both of them before shaking his head. "Never mind, probably don't want to know."

Edwards laughed. "Really we were just saying that we hope Smecker has some good news for us this morning. We're ready to get out of this apartment."

"Amen to that," Murphy mumbled as he kicked his leg out, catching his brother lightly in the shin.

Connor glanced up at his twin and, knowing immediately what he wanted, he fished his pack of smokes out of his pocket and removed two. Sticking them in his mouth he lit them both at the same time and passed one off to his brother. Connor took a big breath, bringing the smoke deep into his lungs before tilting his head back and blowing it into the air above him. Tapping the ash from the end of his cigarette, he glanced sidelong at Edwards. "Ya don't have to go with us, ya know."

Edwards looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Whatever Smecker has planned, you don't have to be a part of it. He has the resources to get ya out of the country and get ya started fresh somewhere else. No need to keep riskin' yourself for us." Connor held his breath, desperately hoping the kid would take his advice. It would be one less person he needed to worry about.

Edwards shook his head, looking slightly offended by the suggestion. "I'm not going anywhere, Connor. When I agreed to help, it wasn't just to get you guys out of prison. I'm in this for the long haul and that includes doing what I can to help the Saints carry on with their mission." Edwards looked down at his lap, absent-mindedly picking at a small hole in the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "I owe you guys," he added quietly.

Connor sighed and looked quickly over at Murphy before angling himself to face the young man more fully. "You keep sayin' that but you've never explained why you think you owe us anythin'. I need to know why you sacrificed so much to help us."

Edwards remained quiet for several minutes before leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees. Looking up he glanced at Murphy before settling his gaze on Connor and nodding. "I was seventeen years old the year you guys became the Saints of South Boston," he began quietly. "At the time, my younger sister and I were living in a crappy apartment here in Southie with my mother. My father was killed when I was sixteen and his death hit my mom pretty hard. She took to drinking and couldn't hold down a job. We started to fall behind on rent and the landlord was threatening to evict us when she hooked up with a guy named Lance at this bar she was waitressing at. He was a scumbag, into some pretty bad stuff. Drugs mostly, buying, selling, using. Pretty sure he had some dealings with the mob as well. Anyway, he started pulling her into his world. He knew she was having money troubles and promised her that, if she helped him sell a little on the side, she wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. It started off as just a way for her make enough money to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads, but it wasn't long before she started using and he got her hooked on the shit. She was gone a lot and I was left to take care of my sister Jenny who was only twelve at the time. One night, after being out all day, she came home with a black eye, busted lip and bruises all up and down her arms. The son of a bitch had started hitting her. After that, I begged her to stop. Told her I would drop out of school and get a job to help support us. She broke down, told me that she was sorry for everything and that she was ready to do better for her family. She said that she absolutely did not want me to drop out but she promised she would get clean and quit the drinking so she could find a decent job. The next day she went to tell Lance that she was done and that he wouldn't be seeing her anymore but he didn't take it too well. She came home that evening with three broken ribs and a busted nose. I was scared for her and I didn't know what else to do so I found my dads old revolver that she still kept hidden in a shoebox above her closet and I decided I would take care of him myself. I knew if I killed him I would be sent to prison but I had to do what needed to be done to protect my family. I had hoped that, since I was still under eighteen, I wouldn't be tried as an adult and the sentence wouldn't be as severe. Either way, my mom would be free and Jenny would have her mother back and that made it worth it to me. I was planning on skipping school the next day so I could hunt this bastard down and finish him off but that morning I found my mom in the living room watching a report on the news. Lance, along with two other men, had been found shot to death at some strip joint called the Sin Bin." Edwards watched as realization dawned on both Connor and Murphy's face but he pressed on with his tale. "It wasn't until the Saints revealed themselves at the courthouse the day they killed Papa Joe that I learned who was responsible for saving my family and I swore if I ever had a chance to somehow thank them, I would." Edwards sat back in his chair and waited.

Connor looked up at his brother, unsure of what to say. He felt sad about what the young man had gone through and yet it was strangely gratifying to hear about the lives that they were able to change for the better. He knew that by doing what they did they were saving people, it was the whole purpose of their mission, but being able to hear first hand the good they had done was rewarding. He understood Edwards' motivations better now but he was still uncomfortable with the kid taking so many risks for them. "Look, we appreciate everything you've done for us, I don't want you to think that we don't, you got us out of that shit hole and you saved Murphy's life and that is everythin' to me, but I don't want ya riskin' yourself for us anymore. You've done enough. Ya should talk to Smecker and have him set ya up somewhere where ya can start over…"

"I'm not going anywhere, Connor," Edwards said firmly, not letting the man finish. "I said that and I meant it. I'm right where I need to be."

Connor shook his head in frustration. "Ya won't be safe with us. We're always goin' to be runnin' and fightin' and we wont be able to protect ya. I don't need ya losin' your life for this."

Edwards leaned forward and fixed Connor with an intense look. "I don't need you to protect me, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. This isn't your choice to make, it's mine and I've made it."

Connor opened his mouth to protest but Murphy intervened. "What about your family? Surely we could work it out to where they could go with you if ya left."

Edwards sat back with a sigh and shook his head. "My mom died two years ago from cancer and my sister is going to college up in New York, she has her own life now and I wont interfere with that." He looked over at Connor before turning pleading eyes onto Murphy. "Please, I know you guys have both lost people and that makes you nervous but I want to do this. I need to do this."

Connor growled as he lit up yet another cigarette and took a drag before pointing at the young man next to him. "Fine, but if ya come with us ya do what we say, ya understand? You'll be workin' with Smecker and stayin' off the fuckin' streets."

Murphy watched Edwards who looked like he was about to argue but the serious look on Connor's face seemed to stop him. The kid looked up at him as if he expected him to say something but Murphy simply shrugged and nodded in agreement. He understood Connor's fears and he would back his brother's decision.

When Murphy didn't say anything Edwards gave in and dropped the subject. He would take what he could get for now.

The sound of the sliding door opening caused them to look up and they all nodded a greeting when Smecker stepped out onto the balcony, latte in one hand and a large manila envelope in the other. "Well, good morning, boys. You're all up early."

"Couldn't sleep," Connor mumbled, taking another drag from his smoke before flicking it over the railing.

"Well maybe what I have here will brighten your morning." Smecker tossed the envelope into Connor's lap and motioned for him to open it.

Pulling open the top, Connor reached his hand inside and pulled out a thick folder. Flipping open the cover, he looked over the first page and turned questioning eyes back onto Smecker. "What is this?"

"That, boys, is one twisted soul that is in need of a little Saintly justice."

Intrigued, Murphy pushed off the railing and stepped behind Connor, reading the file over his brother's shoulder. When he saw the picture of the man on the page his face twisted up in confusion. "Kennedy Dawson? I think I've seen him on the news before. Isn't he the guy that runs all of those charities, helpin' the homeless and raising money for sick kids and shit?"

When Smecker nodded Connor and Murphy shared a look. "Uh, Smecker, I don't think this is really the type of person the Saints go for. The guy is practically a fuckin' Saint himself," Connor said, looking back over at Smecker who was smirking at him.

"Keep looking," the former agent ordered, motioning to the file.

Connor did as he was told and continued to flip through the pages, a look of surprise and disgust taking over his face at what he saw. In the file there were photos of tractor-trailers loaded down with drugs and guns, some were even filled with women, bound and gagged, also there was a thick stack of bank statements as well as a few federal investigation reports. Looking back at Murphy, Connor saw the same look written across his twin's face. "What the fuck is this guy into?" he asked, the question directed toward Smecker.

"Kennedy Dawson, nationally recognized and loved for all of his many successful and prosperous charity programs, selfless do-gooder who donates a portion of his large fortune to help people all over the world, closet drug kingpin who oversees the distribution of everything from heroin to illegal firearms, and even has his dirty little hand in the sex trade business."

"Holy shit," Connor breathed, looking back down at the file in his hands.

"He has been investigated several times but he keeps himself so far removed from the dirty side of his business that nothing can really be traced back to him, at least not enough to make a conviction. The man does a lot of his dealings out of New York so that is where we are headed. I've worked out our plans with Cooper and we will be leaving Boston tonight." Stepping over to Connor and Murphy he placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "Better rest up, boys. It's time to get back to work."

/ / /

**A/N:_ And that's that! Again, thank you all for reading, it makes writing more fun when there are people who enjoy reading it. It would really mean a lot to hear everyone's thoughts on this so don't hesitate to hit that review button on your way out! _**


End file.
